Babbling Poems - Poems about Babbling

When the clouds’ part and the sun does rise, A glimmer of hope felt for my treasured prize. Vast above the sky shimmers blue, Forever in search for a heart pure and true. Over rolling hills, farms and babbling brooks, Through glimmering eyes and dazzling looks. To the horizon they dream and leer, Forever trapped in what is ever so near. So far...

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Still lakes can listen A babbling brook cannot hear Cast your words with care Into this sea of people The source, the flow, from the mouth...

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This brook in the woods I pass in the winter It babbles and blisters and wanders and splinters In all sorts of directions grinding and winding Turns back in connection then to itself binding Like limbs of a squid with their purpose undid A playground of kids with rules they've rid Not rigid or timid, free flows with no limit Nothing to...

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Like children at play I hear them babble, Ever skipping away Over rocky rabble And all ten toes On my own two feet, Watching as it goes Before I retreat These eyes alone Caught rainbow trout, His home below shone With the dawn about Was swiftly running Throughout the wood, And deeply sunning As best it could The coldest brook Born of the snow, Months it took For spring to show Clearest...

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Resistivitiy Metrics are aassocated with locating water before the drilling. where discussions take us from price to certainty Costing then finds us as we are excited to see in awe we gloat and glare those whos lesser understanding just look at stare which reduces labor a chore which we support then to doing then that whats been needed done we applaud happy as we prepare to drill reliblity and productive automation...

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The Babbling Brook The babbling brook was very loud. When people saw her first, she drew quite a crowd. Usually, brooks are relaxing and smooth This brook was different, but not to be rude. She always kept the villagers up at night. But they were very kind and didn’t put up a fight, She babbled and spoke from dark till light. In...

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Bubbling, babbling brook Smooth stones washed by your motion Sunlight shadows dance...

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Our own history disadvantages our weak soul We were conquered by our weak thoughts We defy power thinking we were deceived Guilty or not we acted more than we should Angry! Upset! Terrorised! Empowered! Entitled! How can we defeat our strength? how can we devour our overflown emotions? How can we prove we’re right when it does not matter at all? All...

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There once was a babbling brook flowing through the field, just one look is all it took to see the beauty of nature’s gift- All the leaves from the trees seemed to gather in the weald, in the lumbered beaver dam lay a weak and broken rift. Just one look is all it took to...

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When magpies' crackle joins the song Another answers from below-- That neighing horse completes the verse Until loud winds hush gossip's row. Brian Strand Contest 15 Dec 16...

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(Created using the bAbBlE sentence generator, various text excerpts, and a minuscule bit of human editing.) And she smells good without keeping all ... Beef, sitting lonely on that lies floating on the tufted floor. "Surely," I was napping, cold noodles, I implore! But the Raven, "Nevermore." Deep into that darkness peering, I got enough trouble. Boy, the whole...

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for my precious granddaughter, Brooke whom I hope one day will be able to talk again… The babbling little brook , was enjoying the warmth of the autumn sun, Thinking about where her waters flowed, then wondering from where they come, She was lined with a mosaic of pebbles, all different sizes and kinds, Some had a glittering sparkle, holding minerals...

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The flow of time and I but a stone in the current Upstream I cannot know, Downstream but a memory. Piece by piece I am worn, To the past I become, A shadow of what went before. But I stem the flow, life's blood, Staunch and strong, Present in this single moment. Stoic...

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crusty ol’ Clint pausing & gesturing, babbling & rambling through what others have deemed a “speech”--- talking to that empty chair on stage in front of all the hopeful repugnicans (a room full of predominantly old white people…some even wearing stuffed animal hats), hinting at profanity that might come from the mouth of president hope & change, as if he might be different than the new filthy wealthy...

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Coloured and in cascades, there's foam on the falls, Elliptical dome shaped..almost perfect circles are recalled Haven of childhood and sanctuary gained, ephemeral beauty its existance proclaims, against backdrops on dewdrops in rain on the leaves, bubbles are forming in torrents and streams in my bathtub they a'wait me..under billows of steam..! Copyright Joe Maverick 2011...

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