ABOUT ME

     Guy Brooke grew up fascinated with the lyrical words of songs.  How could he, too, manipulate such emotions?  After years of writing close to one hundred songs, producing two self-published music albums, crafting and directing three original musical plays and conducting five guitar concerts through San Juan College (an institute Guy was teaching guitar for in Farmington, New Mexico), it proved easy for him to cross over into colorful rhyming stories for children and full blown fantasy novels for the young adults.
     Guy loves life, loves the young and loves to write. Residing in the Pacific Northwest with his wife Barbara, Guy wishes to continue manipulating words until carpal tunnel takes its toll : )

- The poem that started it all -

When I was eighteen I walked along this Colorado mountain lake at night. The air was warm, the moon was full, its light shimmered across the still waters. Images flooded my mind as words tried to express the cavalcade of emotions. A story emerged and I have been haunted by its ode ever since. Keeping close to its original draft, it is my sentiment to galvanize this poem in honor of its inspiration. On the other side of the ode you’re about to enter Mystical Mountain Magic's two part novel, crafted for young adult readers in search of exploring a new world of fantasy, allegorical creatures and the ever elusive fountain of youth. So come on in and meet the family—warts and all—there's lots of room!

Way up on Misty Mountain, where moose migrate to mate

Mists of vapor moisture gather, at its misty mountain lake

And through these mists, on Misty Mountain

a great white eagle soars

As the twinkle of moonlight magic, shimmers lightly by her shore

Now legends mention the moods of this mountain

and where this great white eagle came

And how she may cause her mountain to moan or play music

for Mariah is her name

Mariah, once a young and beautiful maiden, was also very shy

She was loved by all, but only love she could give

was to that misty mountain sky

She had longed dreamed of being Queen

and to rule her secret throne

To either be a part of this mountain or die

for she was to seek its secrets alone

As the next morning was whispering its song

Mariah climbed this mountain, with a feeling that something was wrong

She climbed past its high valley, in search of an answer

then mists stormed in from nowhere, and the mountain began to stir

Up from its marrow the mountain's voice cried,

in hot molten tears that have long since dried

Mariah laughed with magic as she sang with the mountain

then she became this white mighty eagle

as she was bathed in this marrow’s fountain

Still today few men will say, that in the distance at the edge of night

Mists will ever guard this mountain, and Mariah's magic coat of white


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