Categories
Poetry

Lonely

But I am the wind.

And my soul is alone

as it blows through the jars

of neat and tidy life.

Oh, the aching.

For, home floats free;

I will never be bound.

Can you not see?

I will never be bound.

And my heart cries,

lonely.

My heart cries.

Lonely.

Photo by Jeswin Thomas on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Feathers

She fled her body, to where the poets fly.

Her heart lived in that place,

an angel by night light.

There were feathers on the wind of day,

and music, like a lovers kiss, drifting.

Oh, how she loved, there.

Oh, how she loved.

And how she missed that beautiful whisper

when down to earth

she fell.

Photo by Viktorya Sergeeva ud83dudc99ud83dudc9bud83eudec2 on Pexels.com
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Dream

Always remember your softness.

Always remember to wrap your gifts

and hand them to the world, carefully.

For, my dear, my darling

you.

Only you

can paint the world

the colour of your dreams.

Go on, sweet bloggy friends.

Catch your butterfly.

xx Brooke

Day 12. Go on. Set your heart free. xx
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

The Ocean

It never ceases to amaze,

the ocean of life;

how wide it must be.

If I can see but one river

from this, my dainty hill.

One glimpse of time,

one slice of space,

what else must the ocean be?

Day Five. How lovely it is to wonder.
Categories
Poetry

Sweet Muse of Mine

Where do you go, sweet bell?

Where do you hide

when I long to feel your voice

sing through my bones?

I only know you;

the place I call home.

I only know you, dear constant voice

of heart,

of soul,

of love.

Oh.

But here you are again, little bird.

Here you are with the words I have missed,

the song I have so wished to hear on the wind.

Stay a while.

Please stay a while, sweet muse of mine.

Categories
Poetry

Shadow

In waking dreams I see the past

and feel it waltzing me

down a sweet, sweet road.

Oh, darling days gone by.

How lovely to feel you tickle my bones.

How lovely to remember the depths

that sang to my aching soul.

Always, I will remember the nectar

of those darling days.

Never again will their shadow

remain hidden

by choice.

Categories
Poetry

Soul Song

My

soul

knows

this

song.

Categories
Poetry

Tomorrow’s Rose

How delicate it is, the garden of eternity.

Interwoven; the past, present, future

of our sleepy meadow, dear.

One cannot possibly know how

or what

the wind of today will drift to the valley

of tomorrow.

One can only hope to gather roses in arms

and lay them down, admired.

But what of tomorrow?

A dried rose is surely a beauty.

A delight preserved from time gone by.

Take these roses, fine.

Take this heart

and scatter my soul freely

into the arms of the dreamers, next.

Tomorrow’s rose.

Today’s quiet and careful sun.

Photo by Irina Iriser on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

We Are The Poets

We are the poets.

The ones who listen to the bones of the earth.

The ones who feel the wind,

who know the wind,

who are the wind.

The bridge to the aching quiet.

We build it

and we travel its winding path,

searching for more than what we see,

the poets.

We are the poets.

We are the song of aching life.

Categories
Poetry

Unlimited

I feel the way I feel

because I feel the way I feel.

Because I am soft

and gentle,

because I am wild as the rain

and free as the sky.

But I am not free,

not really,

not in this world.

And that is surely

a tragic day

for the aspect of me

who knows she is unlimited.