Best Brook Poems
I was by a cozy little brook
Where the lonesome poets lay
As I gazed into every nook
For the thoughts there on display
Looking into the water
My eyes began to see a shine
Wondering how many glances it took
For me to see something so sublime
Twas a reflection of a cloud
With the sunlight shining through
Sort of an angelic shroud
With a beauty that was so true
Sunlight shineing from its heart
As it hovered over head
Wishing for it never to part
Slowly the clouds began to spread
Though I will never forget that day
By the lonesome poets brook
With the beauty of the angel on display
Being the only one given a look
Danny Boy:2-14-13
A murmuring brook of love songs runs along my life's path
every night I go near it and let my heart take a bath.
© kash poet (kashinath karmakar)
=========================================
Placement : 2nd ( Sept 2013 )
Contest: What makes you tick
Sponsor: Seren Roberts
Soft at first, the melody grows louder as I near
The carefree brook skips through the wood
Singing to herself, laughing at her song
Warmed by the sun whose golden fingers
Dance upon the surface, and caress the ripples
She meanders aimlessly, exploring, embracing
I am taken by the silence that surrounds me
No sound save the waters lullaby
Her symphony floating lightly o'er the glen
I bask in the peaceful essence of the moment
Nature, christened in her flowered gown
Applauds the melodic serenade
11/15,2011
I became enamored with your weakness
My wishes-filled pages of the dream book.
And I hoped you'd link to my brokenness.
I became enamored with your weakness
But it's just your gushing moonlit sadness.
Could ne'er aim to the bottom of this brook.
I became enamored with your weakness
My wishes-filled pages of the dream book.
Written: March 14, 2023
in the bliss of blooms
in the richness of old gold
chattering I hear
day of fresh breezes
in luxurious summer
brookside in fragrance
starry-eyed starling
his song carried by the wind
a romantic dream
water wanders slipping
over and down rocks aimlessly
finding its way home
a brook, a stream, a river
see the current flow
three timeless places
where man's reflections grow...
watch a leaf get swept along
hear a robin sing his song
make a wish and let it go
~ to the current it belongs
Entry in 'A Brian Strand
Premiere Choice Poetry Contest'
September 25, 2022
What sweet voice lives behind this brook
Stars, these eyes shall look
Sky shall rest this afternoon
Clouds shall sing about this moon
Time shall live each and every minute
Sunlight reflects deep within it
Once more, when we look
Your sweet voice lives behind this brook
Shingling of pebbles
hardly seen beneath water
aiding the brook’s flow
bare feet in the sand
and a sharp intake of breath
freezing stream water
dog drags her belly
she delights in this wetness
pretty autumn day
Today, a storm blew through
And tears with rain drops fell.
Out of nowhere, thoughts of you
And a pain began to swell.
Yet in my still reflection,
In this somber introspection
A little brook of bubbling joy
Flowed in, as I remembered as a boy...
When God knit a common tether
Through our daily ways and means.
He wove our lives together
As we courted common dreams.
While storms will always be,
And times of loss will sadden.
There is a Brook of Memories
That will always serve to gladden.
Above the loss of those departed,
Is a solace never leaving.
Held dear within the heart,
A brook of joy is heaving.
To sooth the pain of loss
The God of comfort sent a stream
To wash away our hurts beneath
The Brook of Memories.
On and on went the constant stream of
sound..
I got lost in my own musings, the second
time around.
She babbled her notions, to living things
that drank her.
They savored up everything, that she had
to offer.
I followed her down to the end of the
journey..
Laying down next to her, I enjoyed the
tranquility!
Babbling Brook was spent from her travels
of the day.
But, she kept on moving as time drifted
away.
All of the rumors of nature, were imparted
to me..
Of what was to come and what was to be.
She slowed down her stream coming
upon a nook..
Never can she really rest~for she is a
babbling 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 that could be refined-
As the sun went down and night arrived,
the moon with the stars sprinkled light,
Little brook awaited for winter months,
when she’d be covered in a blanket of white,
A few simple answers, she thought,
then a happier brook I’d be,
Searching for wisdom high and low,
she gazed up at the conifer trees-
The babbling little brook,
was seldom all alone,
Surrounded by picturesque beauty,
in a mountain forest she called home,
There had to be other water sources,
but where could they be found?
She knew that all of the forestlands,
composed 1/3 of earth’s precious ground-
Winter passed, then spring arrived,
the little brook to the brim was full,
A wise old owl flew across her path,
letting his words in the gentle winds blow,
"Precious little brook," he hooted real loud,
"you hold the mountain's melting snow,
and as it travels down and leaves you, dear,
it’s out to the sea where it goes"-
Knowing from where her waters came,
and where they'd end up to be,
made the little brook happy,
as she greeted the summer with glee,
Campers and animals were her friends,
this was her favorite time of year,
Often the focus of a photographer’s lens,
she gave drink to all that came near!
babbling brook flows -
gently down the outcrop stream -
musical journey
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 the middle of the village, where the brook was in sight.
Though everyone could see it, it was still overlooked
They had the wrong impression on the babbling brook.
One day, a girl, who was small and kind
Sat by the brook and a question came in her mind.
“Hey Brook, Why don’t you tell me a story?”
Then it started talking about its former glory
It chatted and chatted, and it wasn’t boring.
The other villagers noticed and starting to listen.
At the end of the tale, their eye sort of glistened
When they snapped out of it, they started to cheer
They asked more, for more they wanted to hear
Everyone started to like the babbling brook.
And it alerted them from every thief and crook.
Their lives got better, and the reason is quite clear.
A key to happiness is just to open your ear.
If you have some gout
Read about what gout's about
Pee in a South Wind.