Evening Poems: Nature Girl

September 4, 2021September 4, 2021 ~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Field girl, field girl,
You belong to grass of the field
A gentle power you’ll wield
That many will seek to destroy
You have gold in your hair
Eyes of honey so fair
Dont let them take your heart.

Sea girl, sea girl,
Many will try to tread your depth
And come up short of breath
It is not your fault they never learnt to swim.
You have salt in your blood
For You are the flood
That bathes the world in blue.

Storm girl, storm girl.
Your voice is thunder
You’ll leave them to wonder,
Where your power lies.
There is force in your will,
Rain water does fill,
Your throat and spills through your eyes.

Evening Poems: Nest

September 1, 2021September 8, 2021 ~ Brooke F. ~ 3 Comments

I wish my brain would let me rest

But instead its such a pest

In my mind, it weaves a nest

Threads of lies and old regrets.

I pray to God this is a test

Unwelcomed thoughts only a guest.

A temporary, void distress.

And not a permanent life long unrest.

All these fears I have confessed.

Yet I must act as if I’m blessed.

Even if this weight I’ll detest.

A burden to bear at his request.

Evening Poems: Runaway

August 27, 2021August 27, 2021 ~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

I just want to run away
And start something new
A blank slate of a town
Where I’m known by few.
And I want a new name
Maybe I’ll dye my hair red.
Go by Joselyn or maybe even Rebecca instead.
The new wardrobe is next
New jackets and dresses.
Leaving behind the old me and all her old messes.
I want a new apartment
That overlooks a city
Decorated in plants and decor I think is pretty.
But even if I did all this,
Would it even work?
You cant run from yourself and all that hurts.
Because even in a new town, new city, new flat, new name,
The heart that beats in my chest
Is still the same.

Evening Poems: The Ballroom of Fire

August 26, 2021 ~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

I’ve got on a gown of ash

Come on darling, let’s look past.

The room’s afire, windows alight.

Orange flames against the night.

They’re playing our song,

Just dance along.

A waltz in a ballroom of fire.

The shadows weave against the wall

A tragic dance- dont let me fall.

In a ring of spark and ember.

I’ll do my best to not remember

This waltz in a ballroom of fire.

The violins climb and then they sing.

The fateful song in the halls do ring.

The tiles are now stained with coal.

My hands are black-this is the toll.

Look at me, though the flames are higher.

This is The Waltz in a ballroom of fire.

The clock strikes- it is the end.

The smell of smoke

As time continues its endless march.

Smoke is all I have to breath.

Fire and flames are all I see.

Is that a shadow-or is it your face?

Your hand that I hold is my saving grace.

As we Waltz in a ballroom of fire.

Admist the crackle, a clock does chime.

This is it- we’ve run out of time.

All I ask is you hold my close.

As we raise a glass of final toast.

Of a night well spent in a ballroom of Fire.

Evening Poems: A Healer

August 22, 2021August 22, 2021 ~ Brooke F. ~ 1 Comment

I broke my heart one day,

Fell to pieces in the day to day fray.

Shattered shards of red clay

So I put them in bag and went on my way,

To find a healer to make me okay.

I have heard tales of father time

Tales and poems and even a rhyme.

So to his house I did climb.

Hoping to find father time.

I found him sitting for a meal,

Hoping he’d take me up on a deal.

“If this heart you can heal,

Unto you, I shall kneel.”

Father time did not conceal,

The frown in his face he did reveal.

“I cannot make a heart feel.

Tis a law I can’t repeal.”

“Only the maker of the heart of clay

Can give the healing you so crave.

If you wish to heal this day,

You’ll heed my words, I do pray.”

“But of this, take close note,

This isn’t a quick antidote.”

“If this pain you wish to release,

To put It back together,

He must have every piece.”

Writing Prompt: Star Keeper

August 18, 2021November 6, 2021 ~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

You are the star keeper. In your bag you have your tools which is nothing more than a paint brush and your star ink.

Your job is to roam the earth and witness stories befitting to be written in the stars.

Evening Poems: Wisdom In The Thicket

August 9, 2021August 9, 2021 ~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Deep in thicket
In the dark of the wood
Next to a oak
That has long withstood,
Sits an old fox,
Tail bushy and red
With scars suggesting
He should have long been dead.
Talk to the Fox,
He answers one question each,
In hopes that wisdom
He will pass and teach.
Why do we die?
She was first to ask.
The Fox cocked his head,
For this was no easy task.
We pass on, for this is not our home.
Why linger in the darkness of a tomb?
We were made to be many things,
Child, you see,
But comfortable is not one of them.
For against our very nature,
To stay and simply be.
Why then care at all?
The boy said.
He was smaller with brown eyes,
A hair of dark red.
The Fox smiled
A kind toothy grin.
I think that is an answer,
That you find within.

Evening Poems: Trust Fall

August 4, 2021 ~ Brooke F. ~ 3 Comments

Love is like a trust fall
Where someone is allowed to let you fall
For if they dont wanna catch you
You dont want them catching you at all.
You lean into the air
And land upon your back
Too late to back out now
Even though they’ve taken two steps back.
So little surprise-you get the Wind knocked out
You Roll over on your side,
Your Heart is full of doubt
But you close your eyes
And then breath in
Nothing left to do but
Dust yourself off
To get up
And try again.

Evening Poems: A Realist

August 1, 2021November 6, 2021 ~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

I’m the most hopeful pessimist you’ll ever meet
how do I accomplish such a feat?
I wish to see the good in all I meet,
yet expect something dark lurking beneath.
I hope for the best
expect the worst.
hope I won’t be last,
but I don’t expect first.
the world can be cruel, that much is true,
but I couldn’t help but hope for the best in you.