She sketches the world around her
with the clarity of dawn's dew
birds,beetles and weeds that wither
find themselves drawn in golden hue.
Daffodils basking in warbler's notes
April roses and autumn leaves
puddles just right for paper boats
icicles leaning from the eaves.
She spies falling stars through the trees
dreams of spinning sunshine to shawls
snowflakes drifting down with breeze
dandelion in the wilderness sprawls.
Brooke, you still have to unravel
more mysteries of this universe
take us with you as you travel
to gather pearls for your every verse.
|Author Notes||My prayers for her speedy recovery .I am sure thoughts of Sawyer would help her recover fast.The images in the poem are all from Brooke's poems. I remember in one of her poem she had written that if she could she would spin sunshine to make shawls to cover the trees in the winter! I have read every poem she has posted ever since I joined here.I don't come here regularly ,so i would go to her profile and check if I had missed any thing.Since this is for her, I have done my best to write more or less even lines and tried to rhyme.I hope to write a free verse to express what I feel.Thank you very muchMiss sunshine for this lovely photo.|
|Author Notes||Google advanced image|
For Brooke. May the curative power of dandelions, as well as our collective prayer, bring the healing...
Photo courtesy of Google images.
thank you my teacher
now my heart aches knowing
of your suffering
you taught us with love
know that we care and love you
Thank you MoonWillow for the beautiful artwork.
I wrote this tanka for Brooke.
May the Lord be with her in her recovery from illness.
We long for your presence amongst us again, Brooke.
May the love of friends and family keep you strong.
Her poems, like a bird's sweet song,
give saddened hearts a lift.
We pray she won't be gone too long.
Her poems, like a bird's sweet song
are missing, and it just seems wrong
that Brooke can't share her special gift.
Her poems, like a bird's sweet song,
give saddened hearts a lift.
Missing you, Brooke, and wishing you well.
I miss your poetry, your gracious reviews and the darling pictures of Sawyer.
You are in my prayers.
|Author Notes||My prayers and positive thought are with you Brook.|
I hear that our very own, Brooke
is not feeling all that swell
I hope it's not too severe
I'm praying that soon she gets well
She's a lover of the yellow
infamous, invading weed
The dandy-lion, you guessed it
and this I know
Can grow six feet tall from one seed
She can reach out to children
with colorful chosen words
Creating wonderful pictures
of her wisdom
Through all animals and birds
I know there are fanstorians
and multitudes, becoming a fan
That hold our Brooke, endearingly
in their hearts
All throughout this glorious land
Get well, our BROOKE
This poem is in response to Joy Grahams poem for Brooke, who is in the hospital
dandy-lion is spelt this way for Brooke's benefit because I don't feel the same way as Brooke does about them. I have gardened for others and pulled out thousands upon thousands of dandelions.
I tell her they are okay, as well as buttercups and morning glory, if they are all together and half way up a mountain in some meadow.
|Author Note:||For Brooke and family|
I like to send you wee thoughts
of fairies, dandelions, and
everything you like.
I hope Miranda comes soon,
maybe Sawyer too.
You wrote so many poems
about the wee fellow,
some maybe yellow,
and he is not blue.
In these dark days,
like in a locked cupboard,
I so wish you to get well
soon, as soon as possible,
Try and stay positive
as that tends to help.
We will all welcome you back.
Most of us pray every night
Mainly for you at the moment.
|Author Notes||Many thank s to Angelheart for the beautiful artwork.|
|Author Notes||I know this is short Brooke, but these few words say it all. This place will never be the same until you return my friend...I miss your poems about the dandelions, they're my favorite. May God bless you and your family. I hope and pray that I can talk to you real soon on Fanstory and I truly believe with all my heart and soul that will happen. Take care of yourself my good friend. Bill|
The Heart-felt Wish
When my body's sick,
and not feeling well,
it helps to hear,
my friends are near.
thoughts, and prayers,
I know well,
how much they care!
So today, this poem arrives,
Fulfilling its mission, humble and sublime.
With a joyful greeting and a heart-felt wish,
My body will heal, in plenty of time!
My earnest hope, is that very soon,
My body will be, as good as new,
With God's healing, my strength improved,
my zest returns, my body's health too!!
|Author Notes||I am on the card ministry at church to uplift those who are ill or need encouragement!|
Just yesterday, the losses of old age
seemed merciful, with gradual decline—
to be expected, dignified, by sage
and leisured contemplation. Time’s design
looked logical, compassionate, benign
with boundless heaven here on earth, and there ...
a future comfortably warm; divine
with poetry of dandelions, prayer
to celebrate each day of love. But then
by random whim - a quirk - caprice of fate,
a life of rainbows turns to shade. And when
I hear of this, I weep; for knowing date
and time of shadow's end are ruled by chance,
I'll fiercely love the sunlight ... and just dance …
Thank you Brooke, for inspiring us all to appreciate life by the moment.
Your presence here means so much to us. Know that you are loved.
Note: 'dandelions' and 'comfortably' are both read with all 4 syllables pronounced.
To our dear Muse, for Muse you be,
sweet sister of Calliope.
You nourish us with words as dew
that gleam with pearlescent hue.
These dewdrops flow upon the page
in verses gracious, gentle, sage.
You guide us with a knowing hand
and give us tools to understand:
Just like a dandelion seed,
our inspiration, once it's freed,
will float and fly upon the air.
It's ours to form and then to share.
You pull us close like family,
and set a standard all can see.
With loving kindness you bestow
the power to learn and then to grow.
We call you poet, mentor, friend.
And now good vibes and prayers we send
to our dear Muse, for Muse you be,
sweet sister of Calliope.
Words are so inadequate to express how much your poetry and instruction mean to me, Brooke. Thank you for the encouragement and knowledge you so graciously share.
Muse--the goddess or power that inspires a poet, artist, or thinker. (I believe the definition aptly applies to Brooke)
Calliope--the ninth and chief Muse in ancient Greek mythology. She presides over eloquence and epic poetry. The name means "beautiful-voiced."
Thank you to cleo85 for the use of the artwork "Blue Dreams"
Ten Fanstory poets
rhyming mighty fine
one hashed a metaphor
then there were nine.
Nine FS poets
sounding really great
one claimed he had a muse
then there were eight
Eight hopeful bards
here in poet's heaven
one reversed syntax
then there were seven
Seven poets writing
in meter that clicks
one had to insert "did"
then there were six.
Six eager poets
starting to jive
one got really trite
then there were five.
Five poets working
with iambic roar
one called his dad a brute
then there were four
Four poets writing
with religious glee
one was filled with lust
then there were three
Three poets giving it
the best that they could do
one harped on his diseases
then there were two
Two determined poets
under the gun
one wrote about a sunset
then there was one.
One haggard poet
his race nearly run
started writing free verse
then there were none.
Oh, chill. Just playing.
Sorta thinking about Brooke and her counting poems...
|Author Notes||Google advanced image. A triolet for Brooke to encourage her to be strong.|
|Author Note:||For a dear and cherished friend.|
Ten tiny dandelion seeds
blown by gusts of wind,
one flew off amongst the weeds —
began to grow again.
Nine fluffy tufts of white
were scattered, to and fro.
One sought out life giving light
where it could thrive and grow.
Eight puffy wisps so pale
wafting on the breeze,
one touched down in shaded dale
'neath whispering willow trees.
Seven now were still afloat,
yet one soon fell to earth.
A poet saw, wrote a note
of beauty and its worth.
Six seeds sailed silently
along a country road,
one tiny single seed
bathed a countryside in gold.
Five now gently held aloft
by gentle summer wind,
one much lighter, very soft —
soon spiraled down again.
Four sailed softly in the air
as light as driven snow,
the fourth one spied a sunny lair
where it was meant to go.
Three tiny dandelion seeds
were all that now remained
one fell into marshy reeds,
where it is still detained.
Two tufted spores now tossed
upon a lavish lawn,
one still wished to travel more,
the other stayed to spawn.
One last seed, a lighter fellow
I'm sending to our friend,
aglow in vivid sunshine yellow,
to bring Brooke home again.
**A nod to our own I am Cat for her most gracious assistance with the last line...** Thanks, Cat!
Brooke's absence has been widely felt from nearly everyone in this wonderful community of like-minded people. All share a deep love and admiration for her. Not just as FanStory's own Poet Laureate, but as a dear and cherished friend. I send my prayers and hopes to Brooke for a speedy recovery, and hope she will return to us again very soon.
Brooke...this one's just for you.
|Author Notes||Google advanced image. Thank you Brooke for writing so many great counting poems. Please read this for fun. It is not metered. Please do not be put off by the length. It is a story counting poem. It requires the length to tell the story of the ten tiny fleas. [the black dots here & there are fleas]|
ONLY A BOY
She spoke, yesterday, of dandelion seeds
He laughed, today, pit-pattering in weeds
The rain, she said, would come a day
Little known, it would come to stay
The tears, she said, from onions nearby
''I'll wipe them,'' he said, unable to pry
She remembered, April, dressed in frilly clothes
He wondered just how...so much she knows
She spoke of stars that didn't live far
He thought of those he'd collect in a jar
She said, she loved him, all over again
He asked if love was a count back from ten
Her summers, bold, predominantly gold
Now winters scold; so callously cold
Her autumn, she said, would soon bear fruit
Once bitten must follow the piper's flute
Whose spring, refined, with peppermint and thyme
Awaits her gently with verses and rhyme
She'll sleep today in the arms of hope
Sighing in fields where antelopes lope
Then silent a voice; innocent of ploy
''I'm here by your side, though only a boy''
Balderdash and Gobbledygook, one of a kind
His heart speaks gently to creations of her mind
She waits at crossroads where eagles soar high
Goodbyes are wingless without reasons to fly
And sentinels of love will not let pass
In this case, a boy, with questions to ask
The way home murky with inclement sky
His tears represent her reasons to try
Whisper then, wishes, in contexts of Joy
His arms are able, though only a boy
-And he will bring her back to us.
She was one of the first to say she loved my voice, used to turn the TV down and speakers on, but this voice will not be used this day, I will save it for the joyous day she returns to us - and may that be soon.
Get well, my friend- for you and Sawyer.
-A poem to be added to the book for, Brooke.
ten crayons stacked inside a box
placed in my mother's shopping cart.
one helping scratch my chicken pox--
then quarantined just to be smart.
nine crayons dance around a page
spread color on brother's left hand.
one trying hard to jump onstage
it missed the mark--where will it land?
eight crayons playing hide and seek
one hiding in the living room,
then scared stiff--unable to speak.
now seven swept up by the broom.
seven crayons seek a new home
wondering where they all will go.
one playing with a garden gnome.
six crayons run to see a show.
six crayons ride bikes to the park
they played on the merry-go-round.
one was left alone in the dark
waiting, it was not to be found.
five crayons drenched by the cold rain,
quickly they find a place to hide.
one thought it was just too much pain.
now four make a mad dash inside.
four crayons rush the open door,
they tumble inside onto the mat.
one is stuck on the sticky floor.
the others see a sleeping cat.
three crayons will color it bright.
zigzags and stripes make it look fine
while coloring it left to right.
one helping colored past the line.
two crayons step up to a well,
desiring friends to all live free.
making a wish, one slipped and fell.
one color left for all to see.
while its dreaming under the sun
of colors all living in peace.
it was melting and had to run--
hoping all hatred would soon cease.
the ten crayons' story is done.
their lives were changed in many ways.
they learned about more than just one
to exist with Earth's numbered days.
|Author Notes||Google advanced image. PEACE to ALL|
See you amongst the trees
One stained glass wing
Miranda tends your care
Her love ever there.
My thoughts are for you
My love takes wings
Faery wings to hold you
Bring you home well.
Faery Mother loves us all
Know that we are caring
We surround you now
Come home - fly free.
|Author Notes||Friend, teacher, lover of words. Fair and loving in your ways. Come home to us, we wait for your recovery.|
I’d print your poems and read them to my aunt?
You chuckled when I told you my aunt said,
“No wonder Brooke’s so intelligent –
She’s a teacher.” My aunt was a teacher too.
You wrote a poem “Forever Young” and
I was so inspired by your four leaf clovers
I bought clover seed and sowed handfulls
in my garden? The lawns fill with purple clover.
You reviewed my post for two cents and spent
a lot of time showing me I was out of commas?
I’m sorry to say that has not improved. I think
it’s a permanent condition. If commas were clover
seed that might've turned out better.
I fondly recall your black and white series, your
poems about flowers, rainbows, and animals the
lines filled with layer upon layer of so much more
than what the surface revealed.
Then your newest family member arrived
and your muse kicked in overtime.
We loved every minute of it.
From you, I learned integrity, generosity, reciprocal
reviewing, don’t jump on the bandwagoning,
and a whole bunch more.
In the process I did a little copyca … erm
imitating you. Remember imitation is the sincerest
form of flattery. I dug this poem out of my
You might remember your poem that inspired
my fun little imitation.
Bumblebee - Written 01/04/2012
A bumblebee flew by
Attracted by a bluebell
She bolted from the sky
And barely missed the hotel
She bolted from the sky
To fill her purse with honey
The flower caught her eye
Out by the plastic bunny
The flower caught her eye
It brought her to my garden
Sweet liqueurs that she tried
Were sipped without my pardon
A bumblebee flew by
She flit from bell to flower
She bolted from the sky
Back home for happy hour
Haaaaaaaa. That’s quite a laugh reading this.
I’d like to end with another little bit of imitation:
The cupcakes started out as twelve
I ate ten then there were two
And I ate them too!
I didn’t want them to be lonely like we’ll be
If you don’t hurry back.
Thinking oh so fondly about you, dear Brooke.
Get well and get back.
|Author Notes||Brooke's daughter, Miranda, has reported in the forums that Brooke has a very aggressive form of MS. Without wanting to overstep my bounds, maybe check the forums for the full posting. If you have a poem or well wishes for Brooke and her family please post a chapter in the book, so they can read them all in one place.|
A dandelion does not ask for much
It does not need a garden
Nor does it ask for mulch
It does not ask for soil and such
A tiny bit of rain,
a couple rays of sun
And one small drop of dew
That glistens like a pearl
In spring it asks for wind
to spread its joyful seeds
when all is said and done
that's really all it needs
And if there is no wind
a smiling child will do
to blow the seeds upon their way
With zip and zest and laughter
and a single drop of love...
that's really all it needs
A poem: with a bit of rhyme, a bit of alliteration,
and a bit of enjambment, for a special Brooke.
You told me once your favorite flower is the dandelion :)
I'd like to say a word or two
on how much I've been missing you.
I was dismayed to see a space
that you had left without a trace.
I'd grown so used to your sweet verse
your absence was for me a curse.
It's hard to make it through a day
without the kindness you display.
Your feedback was a boon to me
and always taken happily.
I miss the strong and guiding hand
that keeps my verse from being bland.
I pray that you will soon be well
and back at top from which you fell.
I don't think I will sleep night
unless you're number one on site.
A thousand blessings I do send
for Brooke to be quite well again.
|Author Notes||cmyers sends her lovely artwork to brighten your day Brooke!|
|Author Notes||Google advanced image|
How do you say how much
A person means to you
When words aren't nearly enough.
You look into your heart and
Try to do the best you can.
We don't really know each other
In the traditional sense, you
Might say, but relate
By thoughts reflected.
In poetry we write to
Share with those who choose
To care about ideas
So lovingly composed,
Random topics we
Write with heart and soul.
I never really did that
For all these years, but
Learned on Fan Story
That I could write
Both poetry and prose.
From past experience
I knew requisites of review
But, from you, Adew,
I learned more than I knew.
You always returned a
A critique of your own
Were specific about the
Things that you liked
Even enjambment, a
Term I didn't understand
But learned to figure out.
Now I will close, but not for long
My wish for you is to get
Strong, be back on Fan Story
Where your heart belongs.
* You may remember through some messages back and forth, we learned we had some things in common, like having seen shows at the old Forge Music Fair. I feel I came to know you in such a short time, but we will leave what we know in the form of rhyme. Thinking of you and your family. respa
*I know you like nature, so the picture I chose is from Avalanche Gorge, Glacier National Park, Montana.This is a description I thought you would like: With a luscious green canopy of moss and brilliant red rocks, some days when the light is right, you can view rays of sunlight as they reach down into the gorge where the creek pours over small punch bowl style waterfalls.
The sun has slipped
behind a cloud.
love the fame,
they need you
to give them names.
Bugs become friends,
what a surprise!
You show us the world,
through a child's eyes.
Best wishes and love
mixed in a swirl,
hope you feel better,
|Author Notes||wishing you well Brooke.|
You love your dandelions, don't you, dear Brooke? They love you too! In fact, hundreds of them gathered together to form a huge bouquet, and they asked me to bring them to your hospital room, to get you well.
We miss you so much here, dearest friend! Please come back to us soon...
Dear lady bug where is it that you fly?
Neath fragrant blooms I search for your sweet face.
Oh lady bug your absence makes me cry
for I am quite bereft without your grace.
What gift to you can I with love impart
to compensate for all the joy you bring?
I can but give the secrets of my heart
mere words in verse which make this lone heart sing.
Yet even though I miss your tender touch
and crave the kind assurance of your praise;
it’s not my loss that matters half as much
as all the voices now as one we raise.
If healing comes through wishes which persist
You could not hope for more support than this.
|Author Notes||Many thanks to Amy Jean for the lovely artwork.|
Is it possible to give money to a millionaire?
Is it possible to give icicles to a polar bear?
Is it possible to give scratch to a flea?
Is it possible to give honey to a bee?
How do you write poetry for Brooke?
She already wrote a fat book!
Well, this is my little letter,
Wishing she'll hurry and get better.
God bless Adewpearl.
|Author Notes||The photo was taken, one morning, close to where I live in Southland, New Zealand.|
You know all too well that I am not a poet. You tried your best to teach me and even signed me up for one of your classes but, alas, I flunked the course. You insisted I passed, but we both know I failed miserably.
I miss your humorous comments on my reviews on your poems. You got me to laugh when I was feeling down. You did not mind me teasing you about how confusing I found the all too many rules to the all too many poetic styles. While I could never get two words to rhyme, you continued to encourage me to try. How you found time to respond to all your reviews amazes me. Knowing that you also took time to review so many prose submissions with detailed suggestions and repeatedly reminding me of the rule, 'comma for direct address' became a personal joke between us.
I know you are a very private person and I respect that. However, I want to thank you for introducing me to Sawyer with your fun and delightful poems and Miranda's stunning photos. You allowed all of us into that part of your life and I can say with complete honesty, that I love them both.
We both love Dandelions and refuse to call them weeds. I loved every poem you wrote about them. As you know, they reminded me of my childhood watching my mother in the front yard on her hands and knees digging them up only for me to follow behind her and replant each one. Eventually she gave up and let them fill the yard. She even joined me when I would spend hours every day blowing the seeds to insure next year's crop of sunshine would bloom.
I know Miranda loves fairies and Sawyer is the joy of your life. You are and always will be the joy of mine. As you know, I am not particularly religious but please know that I have lit a candle for you every day and say a prayer of thanks every morning for the joy you have brought me with your beautiful poems, generous heart, and continued encouragement.
I will accept whatever God has planned for you and please know the tears I am shedding are both from sadness and joy for having known you as a friend and mentor. I pray you come back to us, but if you do not, know you are loved and will never be forgotten. You are in my heart and as the Dandelion reminds me of my sister Diane; it represents my love for you.
Bless you and your family my dear friend. I know you will not want us to be sad, but sadness has its place and is sometimes the best expression of love we have to give when our heart is broken. And, my heart IS broken.
Love forever and always,
|Author Notes||I am not a poet so I decided to just write a letter to my dear friend Brooke. However, I actually won a few free verse contests and Brooke was so proud of me.|
She maybe yellow
and so small
she shines her
oh beams of
The dandelion fairy
is here to bring
treasures of the heart
Popping up again
covering a wide
expands and greets
the happy blue sky
She flies away
to where her
magic is needed
she is the dandelion
fairy of good wishes
and light dreams
gifts of sunshine
|Author Notes||Hope you are feeling better, Brooke.|
Tears shed for Brooke
birth a rainbow
of love and hope.
|Author Notes||There is no need to send me comments.|
Along the fields to run with care
The poet lies now in her bed
Dreams of the days of yesteryear
When the dandelions were so fair
The running over the fields with love
While the yellow flowers are in bloom
Soon to turn to snowy white
Ready to seed the wind in flight
There the barn calls for the chores
The house smells with new pie in window
Here the dreams of long ago
Are part of the dream the poet knows
Get well Brooke we pray each day
Longing to read your poems of play
With the fairies in the fields
dancing among the daffodils
Best wishes and God's grace,
she graces us with her words
such beauty all around,
writes fondly of dandelions . . .
. . .to me just a weed
but she turns ugly into fabulous
and a bad day into a loving smile;
she's our Statue of Liberty
always welcomes us into her harbor;
Brooke shares her family,
beloved daughter and grandson
with pictures to delight
even our darkest days;
God be with you through your trials
and we will pray for your safe return
in the harbor
|Author Notes||God bless you and keep you, God make his light to shine upon you, heal you and return you to your family. Amen|
If only there were fairy dust
to sprinkle and to make you well,
I'd call on fairies everywhere
to shower you with a healing spell.
The sparkles from their dust would cling
and add some brightness to your day.
They'd dance for you and each would sing
of how you're missed while you're away.
They'd do their best to make you smile.
With pastel wings, they'd flit about,
land on your nose, your cheeks, your hands.
To you, they would be most devout.
You see, my friend, they know of you
and how you've honored them at times
with whimsy in your poetry,
with color, and with lovely rhymes.
|Author Notes||When I think of Brooke and her wonderful poetry, I think of dandelions, Sawyer, and fairies, three of her favorite topics about which to write. Here's hoping she will write again. This one's for you, Brooke.|
A heartfelt thought for our friend Brooke
To change the path that her health took.
Our site all prays for her recovery.
We miss her words and personality.
And like a dandelion's fluffy head,
Whose seeds disburse on winds blown overhead,
We fervently hope our prayers are enough
To make her ills disappear in a puff.
But if the wind is not enough to free
Those ills that hang so strong and stubbornly,
They surely cannot still withstand the depth
Of grandson's smile, a puff of Sawyer's breath.
GET WELL Brooke!
We all love and miss you, and pray for your complete recovery.
Warm well wishes to you
my dear Brooke --
my teacher, mentor
and number one reviewer.
Through your eyes
sweet Sawyer grow,
seen his smiles,
heard of his antics too.
I've felt the warmth
in your heart
for all of your family
Nary a bad thing
slipped from your pen-lips
as you filled our hearts
with your ever
I've picked a bouquet
special for you,
your favorite it seems,
fresh from my lawn --
here's a handful
In my thoughts
please get well soon.
|Author Notes||Not very poetic but from the heart.|
I loved Brooke's counting poems - always lots of fun. On several occasions I told her I would like to try one and she suggested pirates as a suitable theme.
I didn't know this would be so hard - not easy finding fresh and original ways to bump off nine pirates and keep it appropriate for young kids.
Here it is at last, Brooke.
PS There can't really be 10,000 poems in her book, can there?
Let us walk along the sand
We both love the sea
We will walk hand in hand
When our spirits run free.
We have looked at creatures' lee
Where beautiful creatures hide
Rock pools shelter from the sea
Collecting shells from the tide.
My love for you will take wings
We will fly over the sea
Your heart is true; writing sings
Your words have inspired me.
Sending love and get well soon
Teacher, friend, always there
Brooke, you will see the moon
Shining always because you care.
|Author Notes||For our dear Brooke whom we miss so much. Brooke loves the sea and we have had many discussions over the years. I can't walk on the sand, dive into the waves; one day we will both fly free.|
so damn beautiful
ugly duckling turns swan
sporadic as fairness
has feathered rare
full view head-on collides
careful as every man's crashing
concedes human frailty
invisible shields faith
spirit placed invincible...
smashed mirrored glass
unless flowers do manage life from weed
do you believe...
in Peter Pan's integrity against a mountain of fantasy
Cinderella's sudden slipper inheritance
Sleeping Beauty's trust in a Prince's kiss
Christ blessed Jesus guest
welcomed home supping happiness hereafter
then your mind keep you...
yellow never seen
so damn beautiful
|Author Notes||To....No. One.....Brooke.....-smile-|
|Author Notes||I hope this makes you smile Brooke. Keep positive and hurry home to us here in FanStory, you are sorely missed!|
|Author Notes||So many wonderful memories. Hope and pray she will be home soon. FanStory. Wouldn't let me capitalize Brooke. sigh|
A Triolet is one of Brooke's favorite forms. The spun gold of her poetry exuded and celebrated life. We miss you, dear friend. I wish each of our poems for you turns into a prayer for your speediest recovery. Come back to us soon to delight us with your poetry and your uplifting presence.
A Triolet is a poem of only eight lines with a rhyme scheme abaaabab. The fourth and seventh lines are the same exact line as the first. The eighth line is the same exact line as the second.
Beyond the confines of the keys
Real life happens for you and me
On this earth, we have never met
Only heard whispers of a much-loved poet
Keep moving forward my yet to meet friend
Earnest well wishes from your new fan
|Author Notes||I haven't gotten a chance to meet you but so many fanstorians love you, Brooke. You must get well soon so we can make that happen :)|
A field of dandelions, I will bring
To fill a range of vases just for you
And as their faces radiate with spring
You'll look and smile to see the sun shine through.
A field of four leaf clover, I will bring
To give you one each day to wish upon
I'll send you blackbirds so you'll hear them sing
Their warbling song that says winter has gone
A rainbow I will pluck out from the sky
And with it I will bring the pot of gold
Their colours will delight, you'll not deny
For everyone to have and to behold
With all these things that I have said I'll do
I'll add a hug and so much love for you
|Author Notes||I would send a field of everything you love, Brooke. But most of all, I wish you back to health.|
Of Dandelions and Fairies
This week, I’ve read your verse in search of light
that will defeat these longest and most dark
of nights since learning why your quill’s not inked
the parchment stacked upon your writing desk.
Oh, dear Brooke, how I miss your dandeli’ns
that bloom so brightly ‘gainst Spring’s verdant grass,
and fairies who leap from the wood’s domain
to cast their glitt'ring dust upon my eyes.
Despite your absence these past weeks, I know
you’ll heal and soon reclaim your pen and share
poetic art so eloquently wrought
with most inspiring and enchanting verse.
And thus the challenge one of age must face,
but with His grace one always perseveres.
27 March 2015
Blank Verse Shakespearean Sonnet. This form follows the Shakespearean form except for the end-line rhyme pattern. In blank verse, there is neither end-line nor internal-line rhyme Blank verse is generally written in iambic pentameter, which this one is except for several areas of metrical substitution in line 5 (trochee and spondee for first two feet). Blank verse was popularized by Marlowe and perfected by Shakespeare during the 16th and early 17th centuries.
I am most grateful to Brooke for teaching me how to write Shakespearean sonnets.
Thank you for reading my poetry.
|Author Notes||Google advanced image. This is for Brooke. Please do not be put off by the length. It is required to tell the story of the rocks in counting form. [this is a fun counting poem not to be compared to Brooke's life].|
|Author Notes||Google advanced image. This is a fun poem for Brooke. It is not a commentary on her life. The length is required (many of Brooke's counting poems were lengthy). Please do not review on meter.|
|Author Notes||This is a happy counting poem for Brooke. It is not metered. Google advanced image. Thank you sweetwoodjax for the inspiration for this poem.|
For you Brooke
Oh, and I do believe in "The Wizard of Oz" ask my sweet Sarah
Enjoy, and you get well... ya hear?
|Author Notes||Thanks to lynnkah for the artwork.|
|Author Notes||Google advanced image|
|Author Notes||This in NO way is to be taken as a commentary on/about/for/to Brooke. It is me simply using a format she REALLY liked to write poetry. DO NOT think I am wishing bad things for her. I want her to see that I have embraced a form she liked and wished to share the results. Google image.|
|Author Notes||Google advanced image. Does anyone remember switchboards like those that handled calls in WW2 ? I have seen pictures and those on tv. This is a counting poem dedicated to Brooke. It is not metered.|
The reason I capitalized "Balding" was in reference to Brooke's last name, Baldwin. Other references to her life and poetry are perhaps more obvious and need no explanation. Thank you for reading.
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