Stones

Cherry

By Silver Spun Sand

Mon, 21 Apr 2014
  • 3185 reads
11 comments
 
There were no words, not that day,
not that afternoon; not then. Searching
for them, we chose stones, instead.
 
Perfectly formed, rounded –
no sharp corners, no rough edges
no unfinished sentences
 
no meaningless metaphors
or shameless similes; 
they were what they were.
 
No pretence – no double entendre,
no quibble, no messing;
sans anything else
 
even though we chose
to categorise them.  Heart-shaped
one or two of them were
 
pink, grey, white, striped...a few
more oval then others, others
more square than round...
 
and then a seagull – shone
overhead; that strange light of
seabirds and you spoke
 
but your voice was lost to the roar
of the sea, and the draw
of the waves on the shingle.
 
We sat and you taught me how
to skim them...your hand guiding mine
stones skipping the foam
 
thrown – at random to the tide – 
making home, anywhere they landed,
when home was the last place
we wanted to go.
Certificate PG
Poem
Silver Spun Sand Poems
Spiritual
Love
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by Starfish Girl on

Lovely, as always. I find poetry difficult but yours does seem to say something to me, thank you.

That last verse (or is it stanza, not sure of the difference) seems to hold so much meaning.

Lindy

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks, Lindy, so very much.  

A special poem for me as it brings back so many memories; your intuition - spot on.  

And as to stanza, or verse, I think the jury's still out on that one, but in my book, it makes little differencesmiley

Have a good week.  It's a grey day, here, but I'll try and send you some sunshine.

Tina

 

Submitted by Bee on

Reading this, I can feel the weight of the stones in my hands and the cool smoothness. I can feel the weight in my heart, added to and contrasted by the sad-happiness of the memory of being taught to skim the stones into the sea. Really special, this.

Bee

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Thanks for your lovely comment, Bee...and special, it was.

Tina

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Choosing pebbles/choosing words, smooth right through – a vivid metaphor, while keeping private the mysteries of the occasion. Rhiannon

(liked the picture, reminded me of some seen on stormy beaches – I think people return to see if they're still standing after a while)

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Good morning to you, Rhiannon. smiley

I keep one of those stones on my hearth, along with a shell.  'The sound of the sea', is always with me.

Many thanks for your more than meaningful words.

Tina

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Hi Tina,

it seems you have the beach on your mind as with this poem and the previous one.

I loved your descriptions of the stones and their shapes.

Skimming pebbles or stones is something I could never achieve,  but your poem reminded me of a time when my dad would try to teach me.

Certainly arroused some happy beach memories as I read.

Thank you for sharing.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Hello there, Jenny, and yes, you're right.  I hadn't realised until reading your thoughtssmiley  I guess I must be hankering after some nice warm weather. Certainly not so this afternoon.  I went shopping, and looked like a drowned rat when I finally made it back to my car...Tesco bags in tow.

So pleased you enjoyed and thanks so much for your words.

Tina

 

Submitted by Shannan on

Ahhh, wish my learning to skip stones was as romantic as your lesson ... beautifully captured in a lovely sincerity :-) Hope you are well. $

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Hi there, Shannan...great to hear from you, and yes, I'm fine, thank yousmiley

So pleased you enjoyed, and keep on skimming those stones.  Maybe your luck will changewink

Tina

 

Submitted by Shannan on

Hmmmm, Heh heh ... now there's a thought ;-) Thanks for the positivity and faith lovely lady. Keep smiling :-) and of course - keep writing. $