page 28
And we wondered if
it was out of necessity
that the leaves and twigs
of autumn
filled the crags
and nooks
of the stones
through which
the brook did flow
bringing the back--
water
high
and the one waterfall
was joined by others
Wondered why
for no more water flowed
it was only dispersed
about the rocks
and twigs
and leaves
Then
we listened close
and heard its song
to us
Only 'good' can God do
Satan but that which isn't
Tis man which is of
a free will
----------------------------------------------------------
page 8
The wind
may last he day
yet it is the wind
and blows away
Words to a Friend
"... and when it was
that I was poor,
you opened your door
and let me touch the beauty of your soul."
------------------------------------------------------
page 7
Sapling
When yet a sapling
not much more than
a twig, with
leaves so small
much may come to
serve upon, to make
and shape your
very form
If it be in passing years,
that the north wind
caught and bent you some,
winters snow
has laid heavy upon
your boughs, summers
heat and too, spring rain
Remember, how once you
stood straight as the
trees surrounding you
Know this
lest in your being
and frame of mind
you lay as in form,
bent and weathered
------------------------------------------------
Contents
From two eyes... 1 & 2
Looking 3
Sometimes 3
Little Things 3
Old Leaves 4
The seed of change... 5
An Empty Glass 5
Friendship III 5
"Isn't that what home is about?" 6
Sapling 7
The wind... 8
Words to a Friend 8
Solid Coin 9
To My "Self' 10
On the Eve of Christmas 11
You love the snow... 12
Snow weights the leaf... 12
dancing, falling... 12
...would see again... 13
Who among us... 13
By Day's Light 13
Before Night 13
Often,... 14
No tree may grow... 14
Friend Fred... 15
What a smile... 16
It took the wind... 17
Can we understand... 18
A Peaceful Hearth Burns 19
Budding... 20
The Chase 20
Our greatest joys.. 20
Our measure... 21
What moments we know... 21
He knows our love... 21
Felt again... 22 & 23
Any less... 24
Yet children... 25
A child grows... 26 & 27
And we wondered if... 28
Only 'good'... 28
--------------------------------------------------------
Strangers we
and yet, not,
as our life,
is lived, in the same eternity.
__________________________________________
Dedicated to
Griswald Wesley Carlton Gou-Min Wong-Thom Brooks
_________________________________________________
Rocks of the Stream
Book I
High Meadow/Stony Brook
by
Gerald William Brooks
___________________________________________
Rocks of the Stream
by
Gerald William Brooks
Book I
Copyright 1976
________________________________________
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pages 26 & 27
A child grows
each thing new
is seen, touched
seen new again
and grows into a world
larger.
(What was, what should have been
is not.)
-- dreams come and go
are dreamt again
that perhaps it may be --
Watching a child grow
as a tree, a forested wood
Watching the child grow
only then is growing begun
As a sapling seeks
its height, its vista;
it is not found 'til
its growing is done
The man walks only because the child
learned to
laughs only because the child learned
not to be afraid
can read word of testament because
the child had faith
What lies in our path no man can
overcome but first the child has.
so, it is; our life
The man might reach the stars
but only that the child dreamt of them
believed they could be touched
The man might hear the cries of humanity
but only because first he listened to
his own
The man might one day know love
because the child has
because the child knew of it.
26
Even if love is remembered
as only a moment
high in a mountain meadow
a moment
washed in its tiny brook
a moment
of warmth from a sun which
lies in the center of the
universe
Even then, he might
And if that high meadow
that stony brook
that sun
lay beyond the distance
of miles
is lost in a wilderness of years--
yet, the child lives ...
then that child's life lived
is fuller than all the valleys
and might well be for all mankind
for the measure of will
and faith
27
---------------------------------------------------------------
page 25
Yet children
in love
and in life yet allowed
to be
as children in love and life
as that the years
which have yet to pass
as that all that which
is yet to
shall pass
and the children we are
and that love
which only children know
shall not
pass
So we are now
so it is that we shall
be able to
remain
so shall it remain
our love
our life
even beyond
this
life
--------------------------------------------------------
page 16
What a smile
you have today
one such as should
never go away
neither the sparkle
in your eyes
your grace of form
or frame of mind
but nothing lasts forever
and should I be near
when that sparkle
become a tear
that smile is inverted
your frame of mind converted
might you find
words of mine
able to bring them back again
-----------------------------------------------------------------
page 9
Solid Coin
It is not that yesterday's dreams
could not be today's realities
but they were then
and we
have passed their probabilities
Coined silver for everyone
but a thief takes that away
paper certificates then are made
and lose their value day by day
So our lives pass
coined silver in youth
and we dream
and dreams are stole away
then
we give out certificates
Yesterday's dreams
are solid coin 'oft times spent
foolishly, and not just by youth
(Our personal value diminishes
only from within.)
Trade then only value for value
and what dreams you buy
don't lose interest in
for they not only must sustain
but grow
and lend their worth to the dreams
that tomorrow might bring
------------------------------------------------------------
page 4
Old Leaves
Country folk may have
their fences
to mend, one on either side,
old leaves out of winters snow
are the making of neighbors
where town folk reside
Each their own grassy meadow
trimmed with plants and trees
none would have covered again
by old fallen leaves.
Spring's first warm weekend
may find a neighbor or two
in their yards raking out
old leaves
and making new conversation too
----------------------------------------------
page 13
....would see again,
about the neck of dawn,
the gracing dove
and dance the Spring:
the feathered wing that lifted high
that flowing word--Love.
Who among us
wouldn't
kiss the cheek of Spring--
bring to her hands
flowers that are hers
Who among us would despair
the waiting of her day--
when she
would be waiting there.
By Day's Light
What stars are viewed in the night
at least one we would hold tight.
Yet, they're years and years away;
ours, near, and viewed in the day.
Before Night
Descending slowly, evening sun
a day near now done
lingering, in its red light
a last visit, before night
A moment shared, silently so
then, it was, we had to go.
----------------------------------------------------------
page 5
The seed of change may burst forth
yet, it too, must grow
and weather the seasons
At once we are
the soil and the sun
the seed and the gardener
An Empty Glass
Winter's dreams flow into spring, and
as we drink we hope
summer to bring
the flavor of reality
For someone to fill our glass that we might sing
summers long we may sit, waiting
as an empty glass is a poor thing
yet poorer still
is a heart in which dreams don't ring
Friendship III
A friend is as still waters
the reflection there seen
never hides truth
be you beautiful or not, it is you
And as with those still waters
you may be washed or caressed
sharing its gifts
be you poor or rich, you're accepted
-------------------------------------------------------------------
page 24
Any less
the reflected light of a flower
bloomed by another day
Its fragrance
not fresh, any less in essence
And, as we stoop to break its stem
is our reaching halted momentarily
in reflection of the bee having
tasted first its life
Or are our hearts less warmed by its
sight
because the sun gathered first its
beauty
And would we
deny the flower’s will or love
of one, or any of these
its desire to remain in keeping
or await returning of
one of those who first touched
Deny would we
the day of bloom
refuse our self its fragrance
yet
call our love to be true
and deny the flower
its love of the sun
Or, the sun feel cheated
seeing it to have been touched
in the night
-----------------------------------------------------
page 14
Often,
I go out at night
just to look at the stars;
I wonder,
"Just Who put them there?"
"When will we reach so far?"
Through my telescope I peer
at the planets
the stars; and
I know.
"Whether I'm alive or not,
Man shall reach
those tiny dots;
Spread His knowledge
through His land
before He calls to man."
No tree may grow
or flower bloom
but first a seed
has broken ground
or life be lived
but love is found
---------------------------------------------------------
page 3
Looking
Looking at a flower
Looking at a tree
Looking at the lake
at the world surrounding me
and I like what I see
in me
Sometimes
Sometimes is a funny tree
here a leaf there a leaf
where you please
sometimes isn't always
sometimes never has to be
so, sometimes, we're
sometimes me
Little Things
A plane flies only with fuel
birds but with wings
So it is with friends parted
but for knowledge of little things
-------------------------------------------------------
pages 22 & 23
Felt again is the soil, which
from time to time has seeped in
to lie too thin
on the cellar's floor
There where a time or two before
just enough has gained claim
to that portion
where the sun shines once in
awhile
There where a flower or tree has
tried to grow, in that part of me
called the cellar hole, is felt a
reaching for the sun
as roots draw and settle
into me
First time it came,
the soil I mean,
it was new, a delightful
rich and growing thing
and I played with it and
enjoyed its company
Another time
after the first was washed away
I sought to draw some in
but it don't work that way
Or so I'd thought way back then
It makes me tired to even talk about
it draws the cold and stirs the wind
and I'd wonder if it would be best
to seal up the cracks
never let the soil in again
to seal the open sky above
keeping even the spiders' webs out
to close the door
as that not even a fly could drift in
Then perhaps I could sleep down there
and never have to wake, or
feel the flowers reaching for the sun
23
Or perhaps, seal it up
never reach down there again
but walk and see only the sky filled
with its countless little lights
and burst with joy
when the moon shines too
These I could and perhaps else
like tear it down
or build a better one
fill it in and sell it to some
fool, like myself
But, I know, it's all just thinking
about
And not such as even one of these
could I do
And, as I said, "I feel the soil seeping
in again."
I wonder, what yours will bring
If you'll hold back because it's dark
or help to bring the sun
by clearing the branches which cover
over and keeps it out
I feel the thousands of tiny
'little particles'
that are your 'self'
beginning to lie thinly on the floor
I wonder
if it's just that I've drawn you
and not because you wanted to come
but because I felt I wanted you there
Best would these all
as one, be the reason why
for if they were, I'm sure
that that age old cellar
would first feel
the day time sky
------------------------------------------------------------------
page 15
Friend Fred and his lady Jeannine
twenty-five years this day have seen,
Some were full and rich, some lean
but through each he's love his queen.
Silver, has shown through the years;
has paid for wars and women's tears.
It is found in nuggets and mountain side;
for its possession, men have lived and died.
So, it is, with the silver of two,
from times of joy and moments blue,
Of hard won smiles and easy laughter:
that ounce of silver all men chase after!
When we've reached the year 'twenty-five',
it comes time to weight, if it's still alive,
The ounce of joy which we first found:
and rare the two that weigh a pound!
----------------------------------------------------------
page 6
"Isn't that what home is about?"
"It is the Spring of the year,
he said, I've managed to last it out--
this long; the breath is short,
there is only the going to."
"Why?" He asked, "Why don't they
let me go home?"
"All the years of living there;
must it: the smells, woods and
wax, the rooms
the warmth and love I knew,
be denied me?"
"Am I to be left with plastic
smells and white empty walls?"
"The going would be better there,
I'd not be so afraid;
my rest would come easier--
there, isn't that what home
is all about?"
Would you tell them, for me,
my breath is too short?"
-------------------------------------------------
page 17
It took the wind
to fall the leaf
a thousand years of rain
from mountain top
to sea
to move one grain
all the forces
in the heaven above
to bring
the morning sun
These none
are mine to command
I have but
my hand
to draw you close
a kiss
to express my love
---------------------------------------------------------------
page 11
On the Eve of Christmas
Now, three days past the longest night,
eight reindeer and sleigh take flight;
to spread the tide of Christ's birth and gift,
carry word of His new year, spirits lift.
So silent and swift the passing sleigh: yet,
not one believing in His name would say,
"I fail to see the tiny sleigh and deer,
I really don't believe St. Claus was here."
Down the chimneys of our hearts he goes,
rekindling spirits fire; for he knows
that no gift greater than His divine light,
is seen in our spirit on Christmas night.
Myth born an age and world far away,
spun and imagined 'til this our day--
we would naught believe unless we heard:
the bells, deer, sleigh and His spoken word?
Wouldn't believe in easy joy, special laughter,
can we believe now two thousand years after,
that our God Father in the Heaven above
gave to us His Son so much was His love?
We needn't look to the sky, strain our ear,
as it's from within He comes to us each year.
As we lay gifts under the decorated tree,
on the eve of Christmas, within us He'll be.
---------------------------------------------------------------
page 18
Can we understand
or know
the seeds unremitting
desire
to grow
to split the earth covering
or crack even stone
Where within us is such
to be found
who among us last
has lifted stone
or gone beyond
the bounds of earth
and our reality
to greet the sun
Love's fire
is never touched, only known
none too few have sought to touch
many have never broken ground
among us though we can say,
"I've felt the warmth of day!"
and will live
knowing the morrow'll come
-----------------------------------------------------------------
page 10
To My 'Self '
I can't show you happy
if I have only sad;
there isn't much of good
if all remembered is bad.
I can't very well answer
if it is I question why;
it'd be hard to say, "Hello!"
on my way--good-bye.
---------------------------------------------------------------
page 19
A Peaceful Hearth Burns
Home's hearth burns
kindled still
against evening's early morning chill
with peace of knowing
the keeper there
tends well the house with love and care
Restless though
the grounds, outside
as stormy winds stir about
and night-time things reside
branches reach to knock
asking to enter in
and grasses whisper
after secret kin
Would one come on this wooded ground
and see the active unsettledness around
sad to say,
the travelers turning wouldn't be slow
and the house keepers' peace and love
he'd never know
Or, had he through her window
seen the fire's flame
and passed the grassy woods
to knock and give his name
it would indeed be sad
if she continued to sit
unable to brave the knowing
and not answer it
For he'd not pass the woods
knock or give his name
but that he'd have hers
be one and the same
Nor, she answer
but she'd know
that her house would be home
that there he'd stay
and he'd cease to roam
--------------------------------------------------------------
page 1
From two brown eyes
did materialize
Mine
Gumbie
Oh!
Such form
such grace
among thoroughbreds
a place
She. Gainly sticks
tube of gum
curls in the lap
"I love you 'mum'."
tries to run
and only tumbles
tries to walk
and stumbles
What lament!
too long, too much
time was taken
but for her eyes
all is mistaken
Forgotten in the making
was her nose,
tried to pull it out
it popped to her toes
tried to make her smile
tried, yet, the best
a droopy grin
Oh! My pain
my suffer'n
I forgot her tail
forgot her bark
her wail
She can't then wag - happiness
no bark - she can't run
speak, ask, have fun
without a wail
tell of loneliness
or of pain
- - - - - -
page 2
Mine-Gumbie
you're not to blame
You make
me laugh
though I shouldn't
make me grin
when no one else
could
though I doubt
I should
Of you, the best
be my caring
all my sharing
From two brown eyes
you materialized
eyes which
I thought so beautiful
so deep with love
with a look
that says
--there's only you
forever-today--
For all that might not
seem right
none can replace
smiles I've shared
the laughter
your ‘following
me after’
-------------------------------------------------------------
page 20
Budding--
are trees again
one might not think it new
'tis
first time the leaf grew
The Chase
I shall follow
be you quick
and run you fast
my pace too shall
kept
passing thee
in waiting breath
my heart your touch
Our greatest joys, loves
are not found--
no hole lies atop
the ground
---------------------------------------------------------------
page 12
You love the snow, it's here again
one might believe just for you
as compliment;
Brown eyes above reddened cheeks,
which, above your smile finds
not to 'while,'
In moody passing, these days of
snow, as it is you know warmth
within.
Snow weights the leaf
not fallen
and it falls.
Yet come Spring, one
or two upon the tree
remain
much as life's moments
in our memory.
dancing, falling, fluttering flake
of snow
(down from the northern heaven)
the wind to blow
from house top to bough
window pane to frozen lake
a child's dream
a grown man's mistake
------------------------------------------------
page 21
Our measure in life
is not found in one filling
but in our ability to
refill after spilling
What moments we know
carrying us
in which
we're carried
and we trust
then
down
we're
thrust
Fearing
even to touch
again
not realizing
our greatest fear
Having nearly
touched
yet
remained here
He knows our love of Him
though we choose to remain
earth bound with kin
whom we'd love yet once again
-------------------------------------------------------