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 foreign 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 would sit on the banks of needle brook
And dream of faraway lands
To where I would go
Nobody would know
I would dance upon clouds
And ride on the tails of comets
I would swim in oceans deep
And ride on the backs of wild animals
I would swing on vines in deep jungles
And skip on the tops of steep mountains
But then I would come back and find my place on the banks of needle brook.
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.
And there ...
I saw the unicorn,
The sunlight beamed
Off her golden horn
She just stood there
By the edge of the brook,
Never startled ...
As I stopped to look
It was just her and I
While all time stopped,
Then, to the waters
Down her head dropped
To take a drink
Nibble at the grass,
I cannot tell you
How much time did pass
The unicorn saw me
For a moment midday,
I just turned around
And I walked away ...
A story of a traveling brook
You. A lonely maiden, picturesque
Smiling there, in an unseen, fathomless, depth, never to be rescued
Never knew the grace of the creation of a festive reason!
A bird, I never knew too close
Chirping high from far across
The sea
My life and my tranquility!
We loved and cherished for a life long truth,
For once to see!
Witnessing transient colors
Colors , the fauna, flowers bloom
The dewdrops trickling down the lotus, the unseen chanting
That resides in me!
Shivers, lasting forever in a dream!
A sea, mystic is she!
Never to be unfolding anywhere else
Rather only in me!
Thou art though! A silhouette
Far , an incessantly running brook
A chanting running reverie
A story of ours very own
For us , never to be!
Your heart song, pondered for an aching heartache
Perhaps
The heart where every morning
Touches the sky, lifelong
To rush to the sea
Estuary, brimming nature’s salt
And sounds festive
Come back to the abode of thee!
(A Translation)
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 follow, full of depth's wildest grit
A space not to wallow, fills up all its hollow
Ill will and doubt with my pride it can swallow
Like veins it runs through with no skin to confine
This brook in the woods of a place that's all mine
Our shifts are duly spent
Of police duty known and meant
And inquiries followed through
In the daily things we do
One day this can turn dangerous
When this duty becomes onerous
And an offender attacks unclean
With a sharp weapon stabbing mean
For Ian Todd and Jordan Allely were stabbed
At Crystal Brook by Sean Ferris so bad
And Ferris was shot down in the attack
With these officers surviving as a fact
But this was not the end of the fight
For Ian and Jordan it was not light
With a neighbour on the spot
Stemmed the blood flowing a lot
The other police ands paramedics were there
Saving both officers for operations later with care
We were all thankful for both being saved
Hoping and praying for their lives so brave
Hail to both of our brothers we say
Speedy recovery for them from the wounds that day
Our appreciation to all the emergency services helping them
And the neighbour a thank-you we send.
© Paul Warren Poetry
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 river waters
Were ever glistening,
I stood, a squatter,
For the listening.
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
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