What a wonderful poem evoking such precious memories. We did rock papers scissors...almost daily growing up--and even added dynamite sometimes, that that hardly seems fair now. Thank you Stephen.
I love this poem! "My bones are rocks on a shoreline" - I envision the scaffolding of an ecology, the skeleton of nature, shaped through time with messages of movement. Beautiful words!
I love rocks so very much! Ever since I was a little girl, I have collected them. Filling my pockets. Always looking down at the gravel under my feet.
Spying a treasure- simple quartz, a fossil, maybe an agate. Once, I found a piece of fossilized wood in a church parking lot. Thrilling!
Today, I wrote two poems about rocks and since I can’t decide which one to share, you get them both. One is silly and I really probably don’t want it to be true. But I do love dinosaurs!
The second one represents an ongoing memory of my 3 daughters with Down Syndrome, who love to sit by the water of Lake Superior listening to the waves, feeling the wind and giving back what it continually gives us- rocks.
They tell a story of time and place and talk about it quietly among themselves for all who will listen.
They come with me in my pocket as a memory, as an earthy friend solid, true, grounded. My fingers marvel at their shape. They make me wonder about all they have observed.
They have a history all their own, told in their layers.
Their wholeness is the sum of their connected fragments melded together through heat and pressure.
"Their wholeness is the sum of their connected fragments" - Beautiful. I feel so much recently about the fragments in me, integrating INTO Wholeness. Something about correlating this inner alchemy with the peaceful beauty of rocks, is comforting.
What aperfect prompt--I am pulling back mounds of rock, gravel and stone into our driveway from the winter snow plowing. It helps to turn some of that labor to writing.
Rocks
Dragging the mound of rocks, stones, gravel and dirt
back into our shifting driveway,
I smile.
Noah on rock face high above the earth,
free flowing, lighter than air,
in his spirit place.
Or Kai and Josanna, climbing the boulders near their house,
which must seem like mountains to their precious little legs.
Or that time in Yosemite,
you and I taking a wrong turn along the trail
and finding ourselves clinging to sheer rock face,
Thank you for these daily gifts of prompts and poetry. Every morning I read the poem of the day and carry the words with me into the garden where I process them. They have been guiding my hands and heart as I tend the winter-damaged plants and prepare the soil for new growth.
I reallly love this poem! This line is beautiful: "I'd rather you give me the stone that caught your eye, on the way to meeting the lvoe of your life..." That was a dart to the heart, and throughout the poem I found myself knodding and my spirit resonating with the journey you are taking us on. Thank you Jillan!
Rock, paper, scissors, shoe
(I still have know idea where shoe came from)
but I cherish the memory
the way your eyes lit up
when you won
but also the surprise
followed by laughter
when we both had the same thing
only a few years ago
it still feels like yesterday
I hope it always does
love this!
My sons favourite is rock paper scissors lizard Spock 😊
Thank you for sharing your memory
This is wonderful snapshot of precious memories. I enjoy them alongside. Thank you for bringing them :)
What a wonderful poem evoking such precious memories. We did rock papers scissors...almost daily growing up--and even added dynamite sometimes, that that hardly seems fair now. Thank you Stephen.
To tear me from the water would be a sin-
it flows between my fingers, within my skin.
My bones are rocks on a shoreline, pebbles
carried in the currents to the next place
I am meant to be, until water rises with time
and I am off again.
This is really wonderful. Grateful to stop for this moment in time :) Thank you!
This makes me want to go to the river 😃
Never a bad idea 😆
I love this poem! "My bones are rocks on a shoreline" - I envision the scaffolding of an ecology, the skeleton of nature, shaped through time with messages of movement. Beautiful words!
So beautiful...
Thanks!
Rocks tell grate stories
of deep ancient vibrations
steady as she floes
Rocks
I place the rocks around the flower bed
hoping to keep flowers in
and weeds out,
marking a defined space
set apart from the rest.
It makes me wonder.
Where else should I place
a boundary
to keep the unwanted out
and the beautiful protected?
Poem #1
Rocks
I wish
The
Dinosaurs
Never
Turned
Into
Rocks.
Maybe.
Poem #2
Rocks
Every summer.
For many years.
My three girls
sit by the shores
of Lake Superior.
Listening to the waves.
Feeling the wind.
Throwing back its rocks.
P.S.
I love rocks so very much! Ever since I was a little girl, I have collected them. Filling my pockets. Always looking down at the gravel under my feet.
Spying a treasure- simple quartz, a fossil, maybe an agate. Once, I found a piece of fossilized wood in a church parking lot. Thrilling!
Today, I wrote two poems about rocks and since I can’t decide which one to share, you get them both. One is silly and I really probably don’t want it to be true. But I do love dinosaurs!
The second one represents an ongoing memory of my 3 daughters with Down Syndrome, who love to sit by the water of Lake Superior listening to the waves, feeling the wind and giving back what it continually gives us- rocks.
Thank you for sharing
Rocks-
Rocks are my favorite souvenir.
They tell a story of time and place and talk about it quietly among themselves for all who will listen.
They come with me in my pocket as a memory, as an earthy friend solid, true, grounded. My fingers marvel at their shape. They make me wonder about all they have observed.
They have a history all their own, told in their layers.
Their wholeness is the sum of their connected fragments melded together through heat and pressure.
Much like me.
"Their wholeness is the sum of their connected fragments" - Beautiful. I feel so much recently about the fragments in me, integrating INTO Wholeness. Something about correlating this inner alchemy with the peaceful beauty of rocks, is comforting.
Day Five: Rocks
Rocks carefully placed
decades ago, now disturbed.
A new plan emerges.
***
In the first days,
when this house was fresh
and new, awaiting
my particular imprint,
I created a garden
of rocks and stones
and periwinkle.
A small circle of stepping stones,
the center a terra cotta birdbath
surrounded by tiny purple flowers
amidst dark green foliage,
a border of rounded river rocks,
one etched with the word “trust.”
A failed water valve, an emergency,
hours and hours of poking,
digging, scanning —
the rocks now piled in awkward lumps,
the birdbath crumbled,
“trust” disappeared in the detritus
of what was.
In the days to come,
I will clear the ground,
discover what remains
and open the portal
to a new kind of wholeness.
such beautiful imagery here.
Oh so lovely. The whole thing together. Starting with the haiku. Glorious. Just exquisite, thank you, Saoirse :)
Thank you!!
you collect each rock,
primordial memory held tightly
in your small fist,
as if it were buried treasure.
digging them out of your
pockets, I remember
their existence precedes mine
and will continue long
after memories of you
engraved on stone
disappear.
“I remember their existence precedes mine” moves me a lot. Humbling.
Beautiful poem through and through. Thank you!
Thank you for sharing!
"primordial memory" - The infinity of these stone beings, the wisdom keepers. I love this humble reminder.
Thank you for sharing. :)
This is wonderful, April. Beautiful flow and full oif heart.
Thank you!
They’re known as Rocks
But they are teachers
Wise, Ancient knowers
Sharing their gifts with seekers
Different shapes, different sizes
Each with a story to share
Teaching us to discern
That which is common and what is rare
Rocks can be viewed
As stars on the ground
Illuminating no less
And equally profound
Rocks can literally
Change your life
I know this to be true
Cuz they did mine
When you learn to study them
As you pray
These majestic stones
Will show you the way
“Stars on the ground” OMG! I love this line so much. What a lovely poem, thank you!
What aperfect prompt--I am pulling back mounds of rock, gravel and stone into our driveway from the winter snow plowing. It helps to turn some of that labor to writing.
Rocks
Dragging the mound of rocks, stones, gravel and dirt
back into our shifting driveway,
I smile.
Noah on rock face high above the earth,
free flowing, lighter than air,
in his spirit place.
Or Kai and Josanna, climbing the boulders near their house,
which must seem like mountains to their precious little legs.
Or that time in Yosemite,
you and I taking a wrong turn along the trail
and finding ourselves clinging to sheer rock face,
wondering how we got there, and even more,
how do we get off?
That silent long look at each other,
love, desire, longing and hope
entwined with our fear on that unnamed rock,
Afraid to look down, too frozen to go forward.
scrambling back to safe haven,
bruised and bloodied by the effort,
we cried and smiled,
promising to care for each other,
across the landscape that lay ahead.
So beautiful! Thank you for sharing.
Thank you for creating and opening this wonderful space for us all!
So much love and so much gratitude. You are tremendously honest and attentive in every poem, and it’s inspiring. Thanks, Larry!
You are welcome Jillian!
Rocks are resistant
Hard, solid, steadfast, and cold
Rocks never concede
I am drawn to the rocks,
the rocks which our fathers
[and mothers]
stacked
whenever they saw
the presence of God.
There are the twelve rocks
[which stand there to this day]
carried out of the waters of the Jordan
one by one for each tribe
stacked one on top of the other
for each one of them
for each one of us
for you and
for me.
Rocks.
Rocks which have no real meaning
but yet mean everything.
When we see the rocks we say,
“Something mysterious transpired here
on that day.”
Then there are the rocks
which are held in the crowds’ hands
ready to be thrown in condemnation
as the woman is thrust in front
of the Rabbi
of the Master
the Teacher
the Savior
Jesus
And instead of being thrown,
[and instead of being stacked]
they fall
one by one
for each tribe
for each one of us
for you and
for me.
Rocks.
Rocks which had no real meaning
but yet meant everything.
When we see the rocks we say,
“Something mysterious transpired here
on that day.”
Thank you for these daily gifts of prompts and poetry. Every morning I read the poem of the day and carry the words with me into the garden where I process them. They have been guiding my hands and heart as I tend the winter-damaged plants and prepare the soil for new growth.
Vivienne (7) still going each day!
Rocks are big
Rocks are small
Rocks are pointy
Rocks are tall
Rocks are black
Rocks are brown
Rocks are white
Or any type
Rocks are smooth
Rocks feel rough
Rocks are crystals
Or geodes like that [arrows pointing to drawing of geode]
Rocks are heavy
Some rocks are light
Yay rocks
They’re the best size and height for everyone to like!
Yes! Go Vivienne! Thanks to you both for bringing these to us 😊
Rocks are infinite
Little hands stack, throw, gather
Each one a treasure
Rocks
I’d rather be on a mountain,
High in the sky,
Nimble-footed friend in the forgotten places,
Brushing palms on the unyielding
Surface of a foundation bigger than
You or me,
Lifting me to look further around,
Than down on the ground only dreaming up.
.
I’d rather dig my toes
Into a thousand little pebbles
As I look across cool blue water,
Toss them in to let them dance and then dive,
Take a few pokes in my back as
I rest again,
Gaze into their omni-facets for a secret,
Than find sand in my bed tomorrow.
.
I’d rather you give me the
Stone that caught your eye
On your way to meeting the love of your life
Or the hard-won treasure you found
After a quest in the dirt,
Hungry for the things you couldn’t
See just then,
Than a present you didn’t know as well.
.
I’d rather carry crystals in my pockets,
Positively dripping with them
As my backpack and my jacket
Bear the honorable weight
Of my relentless light work.
I’d go through a thousand
Extra security checks at every airport in the world
Than take any other souvenir back home.
.
It’s very easy to say,
Very, hilariously, superbly easy:
I really love rocks.
"Nimble-footed friend in the forgotten places,
Brushing palms on the unyielding
Surface of a foundation bigger than
You or me"
Oh how I long to dance in forgotten places, remembering the expanse of nature and the immensity of Rock Faces full with knowing! Love your poem 🌀
Find me dancing there with you :) The forgotten places are never forgotten. Thank you, Rhiannon!
I reallly love this poem! This line is beautiful: "I'd rather you give me the stone that caught your eye, on the way to meeting the lvoe of your life..." That was a dart to the heart, and throughout the poem I found myself knodding and my spirit resonating with the journey you are taking us on. Thank you Jillan!
What generous, wonderful words! Thank you so much, Larry; I’m glad you could find something in it! 💗