Little Brook | Teen Ink

Little Brook

September 25, 2010
By LaurenE. PLATINUM, Nashville, Tennessee
LaurenE. PLATINUM, Nashville, Tennessee
26 articles 19 photos 50 comments

Favorite Quote:
Two woods diverge in a yellow wood, and I- I took the one less traveled. And it has made all the difference. -Robert Frost

Little brook, little brook,
The path you make is cutting,
The water you flow is frozen.
It’s winter and the stream is calling,
But you can go no longer.

The rocks who jut out from the earth jeer at you,
The frosted grass now will not give way to you,
Little frozen brook.
No more do the trees call to you
Like a warm summer friend,
Now they are as silent as the hills who dwell on this land.

I do not know what I can give to you,
I have no gifts to give.
As the sky is my mother and the ground is my father.
What do I have to give?
I can watch the seasons roll past,
As the sun across my mothers face.
But I have no control to where they go nor what will come next,
Little brook, little brook.
I cannot stop the times or make the grand ones never fade,
I cannot stop the moving air which flows beneath my fingers,
I cannot look beyond this moment,
Little brook, little brook.

Take me to your highest mountain,
From where your waters climb
And let me find the words there that will make you strong.
I may not have the earth by reins
Nor the seasons at tie
But what, my eyes most desire?

Do you mock me little brook for my wish?
Do you give back what the others have so cruelly given to you?
Do you mock me little brook,
When you called out to me?
My wish is no more weighted on than yours.
You ground your craft as I do mine,
Waiting, waiting for the strong to lift so the weak may emerge.

My wish is hidden in a valley,
Under the thousand leaves of my dear hills.
On the hills I love,
They hide me from its own earth,
Never traveling on.
Never like the clouds who see all and tell me their stories
Through the pictures they make on my mother’s face.
Oh the hills,
How I wish to see your other side,
Oh to wish for another view,
Oh hills, I have tired of you.

The author's comments:
So I was feeling really inspired one day during english class, during the winter I believe, and was just looking around when my eyes fell on a girl who's name was Brooke, and although this poem has nothing to do with her as a person, just her name reminded me of a brook I see everyday on the way to school. Thus, out spouted a poem.

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