Brooke Cutler Arts

Where heart meets creation.

Latest Posts


  • Permission

    The song of this heart sings without permission. Continue reading

  • Softness

    I will whisper my softness to you every night. I will whisper my softness. To you. Continue reading

  • Brave

    I’m feeling such a tender ache within me, this morning. The aching quiet, I call it, this softness. This knowing of connection between humans and life, between humans and other humans. Tenderness — more specifically, sitting within the depths of… Continue reading

  • Grey

    Shall I sing to you only of sun shiny days? I cannot. The clouds are grey over the meadow and the rain falls fat and cold upon the emerald green. I will not tell you the sun is shining. It… Continue reading

  • Confessions Of A Meditator

    This is a big post for me. A very vulnerable one, which is saying something, considering all I ever do is unzip my chest and share my heart with the lot of you. I’m sharing all this with you because… Continue reading

  • The Path Of The Righteous

    How hard we strive to maintain the path of the righteous. And yet someone, somewhere aches on the flip side of right. So, what is right? There is only bitter sweet existence. Continue reading

  • All The Lovely Things

    If I were a forest, there would be afternoon sun slicing through my trees. And little white rabbits would hop along the way between the daisies and the rushing river and I would know this was the sweetest day. If… Continue reading

  • Perfect Mirrors

    Sun and Moon sat beneath the willow tree, a picnic for two: a beautiful picture of one. Moon shining white on the river. Sun splaying gold on the rippling blue. ‘I miss you, Moon,’ said Sun, as he sipped tea… Continue reading

  • The Rose

    I wrote this poem for the beautiful father of my children, today. I wrote it on a white sheet of paper, using a fine tip pink pen and I left it beside a jar of soft pink roses on the… Continue reading

  • Searching

    It is the softest kiss lingering within a dream. A wish of the soul to be held. Arms that lay bare. Eyes on a wall. It is quiet, it is searching all around for you, my love, for you. And… Continue reading