Brock was a designer, he made a frock
Did not tell his co-workers on the dock
Figured most of them would tease and mock
Wanted to avoid their bullying talk
On Brock’s apartment door there was a knock
Was easy to do as there was no hanging sock
It was his neighbor who wanted to walk
She asked Brock to be in her bridal flock
He asked if her wedding dress was in stock
Brock could design it, this was a good shock
She told him they would be racing the clock
This did not deter the amazing designer Brock
Bouncy Brock blew bigger bubbles than his friends,
Friends whose bubbles were small, soapy bursts of suds
Brock’s bubbles were so huge they’d certainly cleanse
While his friends looked on, Brock trailed through the redbuds,
Blowing such froth, sharing his marvelous gifts
Brock’s bubbles were always stunning, never duds
Brock’s bubbles climbed much higher as the wind shifts
Followed by trails of foam where his bubbles roam
Bubbles wandered through meadows and over cliffs
Bouncy Brock kept blowing, when gone or at home
Leading friends down a path, blowing and blowing
So everyone he met knew, though not noisome…
Brock spent his time puffing so he was glowing,
Realizing his bubbles were mind-blowing!
Where did time go between us?
Why did our friendship had to end in absence?
I look in the past for unanswered questions?
My eye's cries of sorrow and miserable.
So much guilt and remorse lies in my heart.
I can't at moment's to forgive myself for not saying ,
Goodbye to you.
I let the past tremendous hurt me.
Even though you said, you forgave me.
My Katie Brock.
I love you so much.
I need to hear your voice.
I need to hold you in my arms.
And never let you go again.
You are my life.
The air I breathe.
You are my inspiration I sing lillubies to.
I cherish you like the moon over the sun.
My Katie Brock.
Where do I go from here?
What will my life be without you?
My Katie Brock.
I love you so much.
Like two hearts and dove's that never separate from each other.
There once was a farmer named Brock
Who was proud of his timely cock.
‘Cept it rose too early
Surprising his Shirley
On the day we turned back the clock.
Into the midst of the hen flock
Brock my brown leghorn flying cock
Mediterranean breading stock
Flew off the roost to dock
When barnbyard dust settled you see
Hens begin cackling with glee
As soon as was able to see
That rooster was handsomely he
As marsupial much alarmed
As brown leghorn spurs fully armed
Being exposed to the great charmed
The hens flapped their wings thus informed
Opossum tucked babes in her pouch
Her most inner juvenile couch
Plain to see that my Brock’s no slouch
Awesome spurs would surely mean ouch!!
Legitimately now has he
A very large harem you see
There are many chick yet to be
As shall many opossums flee
Many red tail hawks on the wind
But my red rooster will defend
His harem band of lady friends
Every day again and again
At danger he will never baulk
`Tis cackle, cackle, cackle, squawk
`Tis the brown leghorn rooster talk
Cock of the squawk barnyard boardwalk
3-3-2010
He's so spirited and free,
Hardworker and sweet.
He's a follower of God,
And a holder of our love.
From lawn mower to drumer,
From son,
To significant other.
He'll always be here.
He'll always be near.
He'll never be forgotten.
He's my cousin through and through.
I love him dearly and that won't ever disappear.
So here's to you, Brock.
Your strength inspires us all.
For those who read this and don't understand, my cousin Brock was diagnosed with a
cancerous brain tumor many months ago. He's been battling it quite a long time and seemed
to be doing much better. Recently, I learned from my aunt that the cancer has spread and
he's not going to make it. He has mere weeks left. I love Brock dearly and pray for him
constantly. His strength brought me courage to overcome stupid fears in my life. Instead of
mourning his impending death, I've decided to celebrate his life and what he gave to us
without having to say a word for that's how he's always been.
Breathe steady now, your home at last,
No restrictions, your free to dance,
We’ll toast to you and all the years,
The struggle, the laugher, the fights and tears,
Hold back no more your restless soul,
Your young, you’re free, you’re good to go.
Memories are many, and all are a blast,
Like aisle nine, and repetitions like that,
Our family charms and silly mistakes,
Like walking into walls and showing up late,
Tripping over feet and choking on nothing,
Making a whole lot of nothing into a really big something,
The loves and the snuggles, the hugs and the kisses,
The gatherings and happy, the loss and the misses.
We’ll miss you a lot as our lives start back up,
We’ll remember our stories, and that’ll be enough,
Because your still here beside us, in heart and in more,
In pictures, in giggles, in stories galore,
Loves to the gramma, the mother, the friend,
As her smile touches all, her final the end.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.