Short Brooke Poems

Fulke Greville became Lord Brooke
whose poetry the ground shook
For 8 years Chancellor of Exchequer
an interesting life ended by murder...

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Rupert Brooke's poetry you well meet
for this'darling of the aesthete'
Sonnets were is form of song
WW1 group he now does rightly belong...

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English ppoet Rupert Brooke
hs abab style is worth a look
'The Soldier' ,England of a bygone time
but 'Chilterns' for me nostalgia in rime...

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Anthony and his plain Jane wife Brooke
Met through the Internet, one for the books
All these years later
Their love's even greater
Which proves personality can supercede looks


© Jack Ellison 2015...

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B-irthday
R-egards
O-ptimistically
O-ffer
K-ind
E-xpression

L-etting
U-nique
C-omposition
H-appily
I-mplement
C-elebrant's
H-ope

Topic: Birthday of poetess Brooke Luchich (February 23) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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B-irthday 
R-emembrance 
O-f 
O-verflowing 
K-indness 
E-mploys 

L-ove's 
U-nceasing 
C-ompassion 
H-eartily 
I-mplementing 
C-omposition's 
H-appiness 

Topic: Birthday of poetess Brooke Luchich (February 23) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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Open up the Veuve Clicquot 
Only the best will do
I don't like faux anything 
When it comes to you
Real Irish sweater
Real hardcover book
Real thoughts in letter
Real Martin Brooke 
Real chateau, Lake Annecy
Only the best will do
I don't do faux anything 
When it comes to you...

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You were my friend
You held me from afar
You kissed my lucky stars
You sang my songs
Read my poetry
And held me tight

As my lover
You took my love
As my Friend.
You took my heart
As my life
You left me barren

My lover
My friend
it's been a long long time.

Since you were mine...

Brooke Dylan  2014...

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Brooke rocks the stage and hits the white rook
No joke, no blunder. She screams thunder
Brooke hits the eye with her gleaming look
No wonder other blokes watch and choke.

Brooke rocks the stage and hits the white rook
Closing the gate as she does a checkmate
Brooke hits every chances I went and took
Yet she’ll leave you a message of faith....

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Oh her words weighed
heavily through the clouds
it was written with a pen of iron
as she lay bare
her heart...
life
wanting her love to come home
to her...
lift her burning heart
crying tears of rain
oh her male was so strong
from the flesh of darkness goes
writing the language of love
wondering
How divine was her love?

Brooke Dylan 2014...

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Dark Chocolate Rivers sinfully twist

...through marshmallow trees in May

Cotton candy webs clenched in my fist

Music-box songs lightly play 

Cupcake Merry-Go-Round safely sings

As I watch the Cherry-bombs rain

Lolly Pop Lights in colorful rings

All aboard my candy cane train~



*inspired by my seven yr old daughter....Brooke...

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Where tears are all she knew,
and from this day forward she flew..
to be no more; she mourns
simple white roses,
tangled and torn
in her golden hair that poses
her crown of thorns
bloodstains that disclosures
her angelica face of bedlam dreams
so torn to be free, oh so free
angels fall sometimes  even cry
and maybe just maybe angels die....
 
Brooke Dylan 2014...

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So clear I can see
eyes so pure, to me
holds my destiny ...

Twice I looked
there you were
but this is the day
you left me alone...

Seeing your heart
maybe they were bones
sweet and bitterness loneliness
coming close to the whirling beam
of light, molten to the freeze of anger
you altered all the grace I had, I guess I 
inherited this great hurt alone...

Brooke...

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And one fine day into your hands
I'll place your special gift
You picked it out, she was your choice
Possession then will shift 

She's got six strings, she plays real nice
Spruce top, the rest rosewood
Sunburst, glossy, beautiful 
On you she'll wear so good 

Her sound is deep and resonant
And all who hear will look
They'll see the perfect couple there
My Bluebird with her Brooke...

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There was that bloke: 
That war poet?
Rupert Brooke
He apparently said; and I quote

I suddenly realised that 
The 
Ambition of my life has 
Been - since I was two - to go on a military expedition 
Against the Turks

That's a bit much, isn't it?
Like a cup of
Oniony tea

I will beat Thomas 

And if you got into a car
The instructor wouldn't
Say 
To you, "Well
What do YOU think?"...

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I sit here in the darkness

Hoping for a dance

Looking to the future

Singing my soul to sleep again!


With Angels to fly

Trying to stay a float

They say I am holding on

And slowly sinking the boat!


I do not want to go outside this night

It’s too cold

For Angels to fly

Saying things are

Going to change

But the emptiness

Just doesn’t understand!

Brooke Dylan 2014...

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This restful spirit longs 
for love that measures
inspiring pleasures that might come
my restless spirit knows 
that it will not come ...

Each day I wake 
looking for my sleep
at night I sleep among my candles
that I light before my rest
of endless words ...

Putting my feet on the floor
I cry and cry for more
my restless figure 
walks through the fire
wanting a new world to come....

Brooke...

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I thought I'd play a trick 
on my kid sister Brooke,
she said that it was sick
and stuck me up on this hook - 
that's why I have such a sad look.

My trick was funny , so I thought - 
I ate her dish of ice cream,
but Brooke got mad and said "I could rot,"
it was then I let out a scream...
Brooke just looked up laughing - boy, is she mean!


George Aul
08/03/11

For "Hangin' In There" contest sponsored by Francine Roberts....

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From the ashes
What used to be?
Knowing her destiny
Is life to overcome time!

She wasn’t worthy, cannot overcome
Cheats her heart, but never to be
To overcome the obstacles
Life places before her
Each day
Is a life
To
Overcome
Learning who she is
Striving for what she could
Become
Complete
Oneness
With many facets
Of her being
With
Chocolate wine
lot of Memories
And strawberry kisses.

Brooke Dylan 2014...

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Her hesitant lips, longing for her man
unattainable she seems, as she mounds
longing for his toasted embers
sweat heats, hurts her vision and her skin
lust comes in after flow, of his manliness
his hand hardest seasons of witnessing
behind her soft luscious lips, shes ready
outstretched arms hurting, sweat dripping between her eyes
in her garden above the throne, she bows her head in love
in awe of her angel man....

Brooke Dylan 2014...

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The roadside IED was a major insult.
Third degree covers 93 percent. 
He’s not the same as before.
Skin leathery, dry, waxy, 
Pearly gray and charred. 
Underlying fat and muscle exposed.  
Ears gone. 
Fingers gone. 
Manhood gone.
If he still had lips, 
He might pronounce the words, 
“Please pray for me,”
But he’d never complain or lay blame.
I’ll be the one to do that. 
Let the shame be on you, America.
He deserved better than this....

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We
Buy
Poppies
Red as blood
And wear them with pride
In memory of fallen heroes,
Those young men and boys, slaughtered one hundred years ago.

No !
We
Cannot
Remember
Because we weren’t there,
We cannot recall what it’s like,
Save for witnesses : Owen, Sassoon, Blunden and Brooke.

We
Can
Only
Experience
Remotely, ‘tis true,
Through the words of those who were there –
The blast of the shell, the gas, screaming, maiming and death....

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A thousand sands in time
holding hearts sublime
crying their tears again and again
watching as they slip away 
will be will be....
wanting what I can't have
and scared to try something new.. 
please let me just stay here and hide.. 
you are so full of surprises .. 
so full of love... 
its not that simple
don't you understand?

Life is not what it is
life is random musing 
a happy pen
crying the blues
no more songs

What will be will be

Brooke Dyan 2014...

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Nonet pen connects hearts hardships pain
melts the heart and soul understands
loneliness makes true artist
poets read between lines
there are sad poets
and funny too
dramatic
lonely
blue....




A nonet has nine lines. The first line has nine syllables, 
the second line eight syllables, the third line seven syllables, etc... 
until line nine finishes with one syllable. 
It can be on any subject and rhyming is optional. 


Brooke Dylan 2014...

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Silent is the night
as the demon awakes 
from his restless  sleep
cursed of love and ridiculed of hate
he crawls on the floor of the earth
weeping the sorrows of the lost souls
choking back the tears that don't fall
with the screams of salvation from the innocent 
its his beauty they don't call
the meek will inherit the grounds we walk
by turning the other face to face
as he howls to wake the dead
and march on our tormentors
and their very lost souls ...

Brooke Dylan...

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