A new collection of poems, all based on life and stones. I started thinking of how stones play an integral role in human life, and I wanted to explore the different ways they interact.

Sticks and Stones

Sticks and stone and broken bones are what my childhood is made of,
A patchwork quilt of memories, stitched with laughter and tears,
In the backyard, where the sun danced on the grass,
We played until the sky turned shades of pink and gold.

Sticks became swords, and we were knights in shining armor,
Defending our fortress from imagined foes,
Stone skipping across the surface of the pond,
Creating ripples that echoed our fleeting joy.

Broken bones mended, leaving behind their whispered tales,
Of daring adventures and lessons learned the hard way,
A foundation built on bruises and scraped knees,
Shaping the person I am today, resilient and strong.

The echoes of childhood linger in the chambers of my heart,
A symphony of innocence and discovery,
Sticks and stone and broken bones, the building blocks of youth,
Crafting a foundation for the person I’ve become.

Skipping Stones

Skipping stones across golden still waters at sunset,
Each throw a wish cast upon the mirrored surface,
Ripples spreading like whispers in the tranquil air,
Echoes of laughter dancing in the fading light,
Each stone a messenger of childhood dreams,
In those fleeting moments, time stands still.

The world seems to pause as the stones break the still,
A tranquil scene painted by nature at sunset,
In this idyllic setting, we believe in dreams,
Imprinting our hopes upon the glassy surface,
Capturing the essence of the waning light,
As the day surrenders to the embrace of night.

The sky blushes with hues of crimson at night,
Reflecting in the undisturbed waters, standing still,
The day’s final farewell in the fading light,
Casting a spell over the scene at sunset,
A mesmerizing glow upon the water’s surface,
A perfect backdrop for our whispered dreams.

We hold onto these moments, weaving our dreams,
As the stars emerge one by one into the night,
A celestial canopy mirrored on the water’s surface,
A timeless spectacle where time stands still,
The horizon ablaze with the colors of sunset,
A breathtaking display in the dimming light.

In the quiet lull, we’re captivated by the light,
An ethereal realm for our fleeting dreams,
In the golden glow that heralds the sunset,
We find solace in the gentle embrace of night,
The world around us seems to stand so still,
As we witness the reflection on the water’s surface.

The stones may sink, but their ripples grace the surface,
A testament to the magic of the waning light,
In this suspended moment, the world stands still,
We cherish the memories, the hopes, and dreams,
Under the spell of the tranquil, starlit night,
As the sun bids adieu to another glorious sunset.

With each stone’s skip, the water’s surface tells a story,
Of dreams whispered in the fading light of sunset,
A timeless dance upon golden still waters at night.

Cobblestones

On Mayday, we dance on cobblestone paths,
Beneath the blossoms, in the gentle spring air,
The rhythm of our steps, a joyful symphony,
Echoes through the ancient streets, alive with mirth.

As ribbons flutter in the soft May breeze,
We twirl and weave, our laughter a sweet refrain,
The cobblestones beneath our feet, a steady beat,
Guiding our movements in this timeless dance.

The sun casts shadows on the weathered stones,
As we celebrate the season’s vibrant bloom,
Our spirits lifted by the music of May,
We embrace the old world charm of this hallowed day.

In the heart of the city, the cobblestones sing,
Carrying our jubilant spirits with each tap and turn,
A tapestry of merriment woven on this ancient ground,
As we revel in the magic of dancing on Mayday.

Headstones

Alone in the midst of weathered graves he rests,
A four-year-old boy in a sea of elder kin,
His headstone, a solitary witness to a fading name,
The last ember of a flame destined to wane.

No laughter now, no tiny hand to hold,
Only the silent whispers of the wind remain,
As the echoes of youth fade into the hallowed ground,
Leaving a void where innocence once bloomed.

His name, a fragile thread in the tapestry of time,
Strains against the weight of unyielding years,
The last of his line, a solitary sentinel,
Guarding a legacy that now stands on the brink.

In this quiet enclave of memories and dust,
The boy’s presence lingers, a poignant reminder,
Of the fleeting nature of life’s fragile dance,
And the cruel fate that extinguishes a family’s flame.

The earth claims its own, as the seasons pass,
Leaving the boy’s name to fade into obscurity,
A single stone marker, a solemn testament,
To a lineage that now vanishes into the void.

Yet in the silence of the graveyard’s solemn embrace,
The boy’s spirit lingers, a timeless whisper,
A testament to the love and joy he once embodied,
A name that may fade, but will never be forgotten.

The Stone Bridge

At the base of the old stone bridge, a life is passing,
In dark despair, when all is lost at the edge,
Of a soulless world, the weight of everything.

Heavy burdens cling, a relentless amassing,
A stone tied around my neck, an anchor’s pledge,
At the base of the old stone bridge, a life is passing.

In the depths of anguish, I find no surpassing,
As shadows loom, and hope begins to hedge,
Of a soulless world, the weight of everything.

Yet through the gloom, a glimmer everlasting,
A fleeting light on this desolate ledge,
At the base of the old stone bridge, a life is passing.

In the tumult of sorrow, my spirit amassing,
I cling to fragments on the river’s edge,
Of a soulless world, the weight of everything.

Though burdened, I rise, my spirit amassing,
To face the void, and step back from the edge,
At the base of the old stone bridge, a life is passing,
When all is lost, the weight of everything.

Cornerstones

In the embrace of storms, I find my light,
A beacon strong, a haven through the night,
My mother, cornerstone of all I am,
In her embrace, I’ve found my surest calm.

Resilient, she stands against the gales,
Her love a fortress, where my spirit hails,
Through every trial, her strength does unfold,
A shelter strong, in her arms, I enfold.

Maker of my strong soul, my fragile frame,
In her care, I found solace from all pain,
Her gentle touch, a balm to every wound,
Her wisdom, a guide, in darkness, a boon.

She’s the rock on which my life is built,
A steady force, when all around is wilt,
Her love, unwavering, a guiding flame,
In her embrace, I’ll never be the same.

So here’s to the mother, steadfast and true,
In her love, I’ve found my strongest hue,
A light in any storm, a shelter in strife,
My mother, the cornerstone of my life.

Gemstone Epigram

Gemstones strewn like careless love’s embrace,
The ground aglow with glass and tear-stained grace.

The Ballad of the Gemstones

In a land where love’s dreams intertwine,
Gemstones lay scattered, a sight divine,
Amidst the shards of shattered hearts,
They glisten bright as the day departs.

Careless love, like a tempest wild,
Scatters jewels like an errant child,
Each one a story, a love untold,
In their sparkling depths, secrets unfold.

Amid the shards and the tear-stained ground,
Lost love’s whispers in each jewel found,
A treasure trove of bittersweet pain,
In each precious stone, a love’s refrain.

The ground, awash with tears unshed,
Reflects the love that has long since fled,
Yet in each glimmer, a hope remains,
That love will rise from its silent chains.

So let the gemstones and tears align,
In this ballad of love’s grand design,
For from the broken, new love will start,
Amidst the gemstones, a healed heart.

A Cobblestone Sestina

n the city streets, the cobblestones are laid,
A sturdy base, the city’s ancient foundation,
Each stone a testament to the passage of time,
Upon these streets, history finds its cornerstone,
Like a steadfast pillar, they bear the weight of years,
With resilience and grace, they embody strength.

Through the ages, they’ve stood with silent strength,
Enduring the trials that the years have laid,
Each weathered stone tells stories of passing years,
Whispers of the past in their worn foundation,
Rooted in the earth, they stand as a cornerstone,
Witnesses to the ever-changing tides of time.

The city rises, shaped by the hands of time,
A testament to human spirit and strength,
In every building, the stones form the cornerstone,
Linked together, the history they’ve laid,
They uphold the city, its solid foundation,
Withstanding the weight of countless passing years.

In the arcades and alleys, the echo of years,
Resonates through the stones, marking the passage of time,
As if each one holds a piece of the city’s foundation,
A symbol of endurance and unwavering strength,
They pave the way, where history is laid,
And stand as a symbol, the city’s cornerstone.

In the heart of the city, the ancient cornerstone,
Stands as a tribute to the passage of time,
A testament to the labor of hands that laid
The bedrock of a city that’s aged through the years,
A symbol of unity, resilience, and strength,
A living monument, the city’s foundation.

So let us honor the cobblestone, the city’s foundation,
The cornerstone of strength that withstands the test of time,
With every passing year, a legacy is laid.