Brooke Hippie

Brooke Hippie Poems

How I miss the way his hand
Would fit perfectly
...

as the sun sleeps
and the moons cycloptic eye
is gazing down
upon me. i look at the sky
...

Drinking tea in the sun, the afternoon sun
In a woven hammock
On a rickety old porch
Where the bittersweet butterflies flap their colorful wings
...

We sit in the yard
And paint strange art on our jeans
...

If the world were a quilt
And I were the sewer
...

I just had to turn out the lights for this one.
...

on a quiet picnic on a pretty quilt on a green green hill with big full trees with long thick branches perfect for climbing under a sun so hot with animal shaped clouds and lets go in a VW bus and we'll wear tie dye shirts and put our feet on the dashboard and sing loud to every song. then we'll build a campfire and play guitar and ill sing my song for you. we'll pitch our tent and climb inside into our checkered red and blue sleeping bags and we'll be barefoot. and our hair will be in our eyes. but we wont care just because.
...

When I step out onto my porch

After the sun has gone down
...

I am
Summer, Sunshine, and Music
I like to be free and play guitar.
Personality, Honesty, and Standing out are important to me.
...

Brooke Hippie Biography

we should pick up trash to protect the earth and save it for our children. people like me tend to drive crazily down the road in their old stationwagon listening to their music a little too loud. and we swim not in pools, but in mountain waterfalls and quarrys. we wear what we want because we want to be ourselves, and we dont care what outsiders think. sweet we rock and sweet we roll. when the world ends you're going to come with me and we'll be crazy like a river bends. be the change you wish to see in the world - Ghandi my man. GENIUS. pure genius.)

The Best Poem Of Brooke Hippie

Sweet Sweet Memories.

How I miss the way his hand
Would fit perfectly

On the side of my face
And the way he looked

Standing in front of the sun
So it would silhouette his beautiful features

And I miss the butterflies
That would grow in my stomach

Every time we kissed
And I miss how I could write poetry

And love
And I miss the way his fingers,

Would push the golden flyaways out of my eyes
And I miss his strong hug

When his arms would wrap around my entire body
And I would look into his soft warm eyes

So deep and blue
And we could talk about everything

Anything
And I miss how his slightest touch would

Send chill bumps down half of my body
And the way he looked

Standing in the sun
With his long hair

And creative mind
And his aviators

I miss his letters and his calls
And how we would stay up until morning

Talking on the phone, expressing our endless love
For each other.

Now I have no more tears
And I miss the most

That unexplainable feeling
Just him and the security I felt knowing that
Someone loved me so much
For who I am
So different
No one will ever look at me that way again

And how

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