Babbling Poems

Babbling Brook or Dirty Harry

Michelin star cricketing cook…by hook or crook.. so canny..will find every nook and cranny…if you took a look at the record..score or text book ..won’t have forsook ..our dutiful..beautiful babbling Brook

Although the barmy army might suggest this almighty Blighty Test best..is more like an umami tsunami..

Bravissimo heave ho machismo..top grade…gung ho pyro Tyke tyro.. renegade

Ubiquitous Mallards

Bottoms up
in the brook a-babbling
topside down
ducks a-dabbling
wings in webbed feet
a-scrabbling
omnivorously grazing
on the dunk
beneath the water
for insects sunk
yet in the U.S.A.
above below but not abaft
they rank 7th most-hazardous bird
to commercial and military aircraft
and as a high-flyer at least one duck
was struck and it's hard to beat
at a cruising altitude
of 21,000 feet

Babbling Brooks

When the clouds’ part and the sun does rise,
A glimmer of hope felt for my treasured prize.
Vast above the sky shimmers blue,
Forever in search for a heart pure and true.
Over rolling hills, farms and babbling brooks,
Through glimmering eyes and dazzling looks.
To the horizon they dream and leer,
Forever trapped in what is ever so near.
So far

Gush or Hush

Still lakes can listen
A babbling brook cannot hear
Cast your words with care
Into this sea of people
The source, the flow, from the mouth

Ramblings of a babbling brook

This brook in the woods I pass in the winter
It babbles and blisters and wanders and splinters
In all sorts of directions grinding and winding
Turns back in connection then to itself binding
Like limbs of a squid with their purpose undid
A playground of kids with rules they've rid
Not rigid or timid, free flows with no limit
Nothing to

The Listening

Like children at play
I hear them babble, 
Ever skipping away
Over rocky rabble

And all ten toes
On my own two feet,
Watching as it goes
Before I retreat

These eyes alone
Caught rainbow trout, 
His home below shone
With the dawn about

Was swiftly running 
Throughout the wood,
And deeply sunning
As best it could

The coldest brook
Born of the snow,
Months it took
For spring to show

Clearest

Ferststangga

Resistivitiy Metrics are aassocated with
locating water before the drilling.

where discussions take us
from price to certainty
Costing then finds us as we
are excited to see
in awe we gloat and glare
those whos lesser understanding
just look at stare
which reduces labor
a chore which we support
then to doing
then that whats been needed
done
we applaud happy 
as we prepare to drill

reliblity and productive
automation

The Babbling Brook

The Babbling Brook
 
The babbling brook was very loud.
When people saw her first, she drew quite a crowd.
Usually, brooks are relaxing and smooth
This brook was different, but not to be rude.
She always kept the villagers up at night.
But they were very kind and didn’t put up a fight,
She babbled and spoke from dark till light.
In

Babbling Brook

Bubbling, babbling brook
Smooth stones washed by your motion
Sunlight shadows dance

Babbling

Our own history disadvantages our weak soul
We were conquered by our weak thoughts
We defy power thinking we were deceived
Guilty or not we acted more than we should
Angry! Upset! Terrorised! Empowered! Entitled!
How can we defeat our strength? how can we devour our overflown emotions?

How can we prove we’re right when it does not matter at all?
All

Babbling Brook

There once was a babbling brook flowing through the field,
 just one look is all it took to see the beauty of nature’s gift-
 All the leaves from the trees seemed to gather in the weald,
 in the lumbered beaver dam lay a weak and broken rift.

 Just one look is all it took to

Babbling Farm

When magpies' crackle joins the song
Another answers from below--
That neighing horse completes the verse
Until loud winds hush gossip's row.

April's Babbling Foolishness

(Created using the bAbBlE sentence generator, various text excerpts, and a minuscule bit of human editing.) 

And she smells good without keeping all ...

Beef, sitting lonely on that lies floating on the tufted floor. "Surely," I was napping, cold noodles, I implore!

But the Raven, "Nevermore."

Deep into that darkness peering, I got enough trouble.

Boy, the whole

Babbling Little Brook

for my precious granddaughter, Brooke
whom I hope one day will be able to talk again…

The babbling little brook ,
was enjoying the warmth of the autumn sun,
Thinking about where her waters flowed, 
then wondering from where they come,
She was lined with a mosaic of pebbles, 
all different sizes and kinds,
Some had a glittering sparkle, 
holding minerals

In Babbling Brooks

The flow of time and I but a stone in the current

Upstream I cannot know,

Downstream but a memory.


Piece by piece I am worn,

To the past I become,

A shadow of what went before.


But I stem the flow, life's blood,

Staunch and strong,

Present in this single moment.


Stoic

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