As we were climbing the hills
Babbling brook caught our eyes
Crispy sounds of rhythmic clashes
Dancing feet gesturing to us
Ears of paddy swaying in the breeze
Field of grass in a dense green smile
Grains ripening with monsoon rain
Hints of good crop delighting people
I keep gazing at your charming eyes
Joyous always and never judgemental
Kindness casting shadows on the lens
Lovely moments rippling on the pond
Meanwhile, clouds were building up above
Nest of birds are extremely apprehensive
Written: August 26, 2026, for Poetry Wheel Challenge:
Theme: Nature
Emotion: Peace
Color: Purple
Season: Annual
Form: Limerick
Object: Smartphone
Verb: Wander
Created using the PoetrySoup Poetry Wheel.
Verified by HMS.COM / 8-8-5-5-8
A smartphone lies still by the stream,
Its screen holds a purple-hued dream;
I wander through green,
Nature's tranquil scene,
Where peace flows in steady, bright gleam.
Love is a kaleidoscope spinning in me
Colors are moods under a rainbow unique
We have soul ties as feelings run free
Like a kite hearts fly high in blue breeze
I see your red face it reads like a book
White words I say trying best to hook
Your loyalty as royalty a glance I took
Through rose colored glass by a brook
Brown eyes that feast on summer silhouette
Seeing you at peace in love there’s no threat
Offer you my hand you never have to guess
Love gave us a chance to be our very best
Rose colored glass I see your kind heart
Finds me at last we shall not purple part
Walking side by side in sun or under stars
Our lavender love is the most beautiful art
The stone is cold, the pews are still,
I sit within my own mind's chill.
But through the shadows, soft and low,
I hear the font—its steady flow.
It isn’t a voice or a thundering word,
But the sweetest song I’ve ever heard.
A bubbling brook in the summer heat,
Where the thirsty and the broken meet.
Like a bird that lands on a mossy stone,
I’m no longer failure, I’m no longer alone.
He isn’t shouting from a distant throne,
He’s the healing water, making me His own.
My plans were a map I drew in the dust,
But the water washes them back into trust.
I see her future through tears in my eyes,
But He sees her spirit, a beautiful prize.
Not a group home, but a place in His hand,
More secure than the best of the lives I had planned.
When words fail and only tears remain, Spirit steps in to speak for us.
In that quiet church, let the sound of the bubbling water hold the weight of those fears for you. Jesus, I hand it over to draw a plan for her and trusting the One who created the "brook."
Like my eyes, the horizon brims with tears,
Pouring down upon the far, scattered hills,
The happy hamlets, the brooks
That feed the water mills.
It occurs to me so gently
Why these scenes proliferate in books;
The hard lines that contain a city, faintly
Fall and converge with the softness of the wood
Till the quiet beauty of nature is again understood
A serenity the mind recalls from long ago—
A younger me peering the vale from a window;
A sight that past fulfilled my wanting eye,
Searching so many years—
I find myself back where I began,
Crying these tears,
A thankful man.
Stay for love
and fragrant jasmine
spiced buns with dainties
lovingly showcased
in a vibrant tableau
on country lawns
amid the whispering trees
and rippling brook
diamond specked
at the radiant close
of a summer’s day
when shadow dance
must come
with chilly winds
to rock the tender buds
and enfold dear younglings
in ancient lullabies.
The Rock in which free running brooks flows, has no actual destination, yet it flows freely with the soothing sound that brings calmness to some…
The flowers amongst and surrounding the rocks in turn provide a place to sit, inhale the cool crisp air, the rock of running brook where kids, pets, older folks in no rush, stop by to admire the ducks, fish in the pond where the running brooks opens up into, the leaves have changed color, as one closes their eyes, inhales, listening to the sounds surrounding the water, is letting go of the daily grind their day has brought, and exhales slowly..
The Rock of running brooks flows freely so that GODS children can be present in HIS creation, letting go of a painful past, prehaps a lost loved one. Stress, so you see that Small quaint rock in which the water flows, is so meaningful, Spiritual, HOLY, healing…. Just like OUR Savior JESUS.
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
A brook trickled easily down
As poetry running unbound
And I stood on a rock
To hear the steady stream
Of comely words gurgled.
A hazy shaft of light beamed down -
Laser-pointing through piney boughs -
And where it gently struck -
Columbine shined and teemed
The floor with emeralds.
Do you remember it …
That one late spring day,
Solemn, where two could sit
A place nearby, but far away
It must be there still …
All around was dense with green
A steep hill, a small hill …
A footbridge in-between
Leading down into the nook
A place both shaded and quiet,
And the bench by the brook
Sat there waiting by it …
Along the floor of the wood
A robin passed by as I recall,
How I still wish that I could
Come back here next fall.
.
whilst thuh camber'z uv
her fundament
met thuh creek's
pebblez
out mine pen and slip
express'n mine
bold
appear'd
proclaim'n rights
to
thuh gift wrap'd
'neath
her daizy dukes
'though
mine babble 'pon slip
were
for thuh entire
packette
I Could Sit Here”
I could walk along this sandy shore.
Crashing waves to and fro.
Sandpipers chirping,
Seagulls circling,
White sails sailing.
I could sit here for a while.
I could hike this rocky trail.
Relish the splendor of snowcapped peaks
Bathe in an icy brook
Cast a line without a fly
Bull elk braying in the meadow below
I could sit here for a while
I could lie in this meadow of green,
As Meadowlarks sing their prairie songs.
Powder-puff clouds away up high.
A Light breeze cools my brow.
Golden sunset paints the sky.
I could sit here for a while.
I could swing you to and fro
Watch you glide up to the sky.
Your gleeful laughter makes me high.
You are the sunshine in my eye,
The brightest pearl in my life.
I could sit here for a while.
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
BIRTHDAY CLUE AT DAWN
At dawn
In the little hours of a crow
I spoke to my pen to rise
Rise from bed to speak
The language that at best I understand
To the form and rhymes; I'm no stranger
Gladly the pen took over the pages
Surmounted all pressure and blunt edges
At the brook
In the hours when breeze was set
I spoke to my energy to arise
Rise from the brook and slumber-bed
To write
Write the words so beautiful to call gold
To the letters all over the world to glee to
My energy took over all the lines and contour
Setting examples for all men that are on this tour
Where then?
Shall the blade of my tongue not peruse
To the dragging of words with the recruits
Who were army not of words in literary world
They'll crumble at the pierce to rise no more
At dawn
Where I write from the reservoir
Words witty so wide on the mount top
Seen everywhere to radiate its stardom
At a time where memory is written; soaring
Today's rain is more of a doom,
But why not just spare my own room?
You just poured in without a shame
So, who will then take this your blame?
Tho', where I live is a jungle,
My life needs not be this bungled,
Because this flood was just a lot,
This is not just based on my thought.
Its' anger was unleashed too pure,
Though, not only to us, the poor,
Those at Lekki bought their own shares,
Their riches brought them their scares.
Tho' pained, but not by my soaked book,
But by the food I was to cook,
They were all soaked by this mean crook,
That turned my room to a deep brook.
My hunger cried, as the rain poured,
Everything swam, as the sky mourned,
Hunger came, as salary cried,
Debts begged, as the month-end sighed.
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