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Best Poems Written by Brooke Mitchell

Below are the all-time best Brooke Mitchell poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Brooke Mitchell Poem

N/A

I was on the run from the sun. Unaware of the fact that WE ARE ALL ONE./ I'd forgotten 
where we all come from. And this pathetic writing fuels no purpose; an empty mode of 
expression...In and out are the same./ I learned that the day I came into this world. Out of 
one mother and into another. My mother earth. I thank god for my ability to give birth. To 
create a life worth living, I must get better at the art of giving.  And lose my war against 
thinking. For only in true surrender does freedom live,/ and in that place lies my ability to 
give/ WHOLEHEARTEDLY./ I must continue down the path that my first sacred breath started 
me./ The moment my heart started to beat, I became aware of this thing called "me"./ And 
when my brain formed,/ thoughts clouded the lense through which I see. And still here I be,/ 
a walking manifestation of the fact that god means FREE.

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To Be Continued...

I am centered./ My mind has charted countless intellectual planes, and has been found 
wanting./ Wanting more./ Wanting the divine energy of OHM to penetrate my every pore./ 
Wanting the raging heat of union to melt me down like iron ore./ Extracting from within me 
that distilled portion of perfection the glows metallic in the early evening light../Dissolving 
any urge to fight within me, my eyes become open to that light within me./ And that life 
within me/ burns so bright./ If fills me with freely flowing fluid verse...

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N/A

I walked across the moon
And found myself face to
Face with an other.
She told me she held the 
Secret to creation. I asked
Her to please hand over
This vital information. She
Said, "Breath, my friend,
Is the beginning to every
End."

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No Title

My blood sugar drops./ No longer in tip top shape. In a dazed state, I underrate the truth in 
every word./ I wish my song was as beautiful as that of a birds./ And my connection to the 
earth, was as strong as that of a worms./ We live our lives afraid of germs: microscopic 
beings we can't disturb./ Unable to control that which is not seen./ Irradiating the seeds to 
everything green, so that when the heart of a child sings, they won't know what it means./ 
They've been transformed into spritually impaired sentient beings. In love with superficial 
things./ Blinded by the idea that love resides in a pair of expensive gold rings./ Deaf to the 
lullaby that mother earth sings.

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Writing

Writing stops fighting./ As we empty the chambers of our minds, streaming raw un-filtered 
emotions through the channels of our pens, our brains become clear; fitted with a new lens. 
Muddled thoughts become distilled. Violence turns to silence. Trading anger for kindness, and 
sight with blindness, in the intention that we may create hope/ out of this fire that we've 
stoked./ I hope I haven't spoken out of turn, but this burn in my lungs/ and the taste on my 
tongue, full of bitterness, reminds me why I have chosen a quiet mode of communication 
over this. Because noise calcifies the mind./ Never to see what lies behind/ the portal of 
discovery called the Pineal Gland./ Secreting the sacred chemical of god that baptized you at 
birth. The power present then, is the same one in this pen./ And though words create 
illusions, and we feel stuck in our delusions,/ down the rabbit hole we must go./ Let your 
spirit knead you like a piece of dough. Molding you into the true form you were born in, 
through, and from./ When I was nine I built my own drum./ And outer manifestation of my 
heart and its ability to beat./ Guiding my feet along the track that they tread./ I will follow the 
eternal thread of life that we are all strung from./ And from this pen that pours forth ink, I 
lay these words upon some paper/ so that my mind can cease to think.

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Coffee

Warm, dark, and
Soothing.
Your promiscuous
Odor lulls me into
A spell
Of nostalgia and
Excitement.
Your rubust flavor
Fills me with a 
Voluptuous 
Propensity for something
Spicy, and as your
Contagious titillations
Course
Through my body,
My brain becomes
Enveloped in 
An euphoric wonderland.

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N/A

I talk in circles./ Pulling you deeper into a well of confusion./ Spinning in this whirlpool of 
language/ you remain FIXED,/ as words fall from my mouth in a state of profusion./ This 
circular net of language is forever/ flinging your mind out of space, and into the ether./ 
Rhymes cut like a razor./ I'm sitting in a daze here./ I feel I might go crazed here.../ The 
warm wind of reality whips across my face./ I am not a member of this white-faced race./ I 
am not a player of this game called hate./ And I will not partake of that animal on your 
plate./ Eat some magic mushrooms/ and open up the gates of your mind so you can learn to 
see./ My perception is one step short of lunacy./ Inhale into my lungs...the sacred breath of 
OHM will set me free.

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None

Stories pour from my third eye in an iridescent stream of emerald green light.
CONSCIOUSNESS HAS NO COLOR.
And one day my consciousness will transcend the mere shape of a letter./ The slippery sound 
of a sentence slithering snakelike from the space in between your lips. Trading the velvet 
vocal vibrations of my throat for silence's silken texture.

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Silence

I listen to 
The "thump-thump"
Of my heart.
All words drain 
From my brain,
Creating a hollow
Chamber like the
One from which 
The first word
Came...

Details | Brooke Mitchell Poem

N/A

This paper is wet./ Allowing the seeds of my words to sprout./ Though silence holds every 
truth,/ our brains have closed off to this sayer of sooth./ Forgetting to remember all things 
tribal./ Let's open our hearts to an archaic revival./ Reviving our insides; giving them life./ 
The facts of this presence cut sharper than a knife./ More solid than a dike,/ and shining 
brighter than the light/ emitted by the sun./ A warm reminder of the fact that WE ARE ALL 
ONE.