Somebody told me I should put a pebble in my mouth to cure my stuttering. Well, I tried it, and during a scene I swallowed the pebble. That was the end of that.
quote by Jean Rostand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Pebble Justice
he picks up a pebble
and throws it into the sea
from a cliff
he asks: this is not a place
for pebbles
so this is not a pebble
i will return it to the sea
and be with the sands
and shells and
waves and winds
and seaweeds
and crabs
does he not wonder at all
if he has the power to decide where a pebble must be?
sometimes people assume so much
behaving like a god
must he think a little deeper and realize
that what is proper for the people is not proper for a pebble
that pebbles too have minds of their own
and who know if the same pebble to thinks
that the cliff is not the place of man
assuming to be its own god?
must he be considerate enough that pebbles too have
their own invisible feet
and well developed brains
and that when the man throws it into the sea
on the ground only of
impropriety
that the pebble may have objected it vehemently and could have
used its own hidden powers
but only that it did not show it
by reason of pity that this man
is so dumb
and so limited
in the flesh of its
own selfish
understanding?
does he not know that a pebble too demands respect
have privacy
and soon shall take its
inevitable revenge?
'bury mankind! they have thrown us away
without our consent' that is their clamor now
in their own
Pebble Court using their Pebble law
to be judged later
by their Pebble Magistrates.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Pebble In My Shoe
a pebble in my shoe
i want it removed
a pebble in my shoe
a disturbance
in my mind
a pebble in my shoe
an enemy
in my feet
yet wait
let me recall
a grain of sand
inside the clam
a pearl
in my hand
once a pebble
in my shoe
let me walk again
let me remember
the pearl
in the clam
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Finding A New Pebble
Meeting you is like
Finding a new pebble
Out at sea. I don’t
see
Any similarity
with
The rest
i say
you're unique
And
no one
Believes this pebble
in my hand is
Something significant
In fact
Everyone does
Not really mind
At all
Saying it is
Nothing but a
A very ordinary
pebble
But in my heart
It isn’t
It is something
That
Amazes me
with its texture
of solidity
and
metallic color
it has
Changed the way
i look
At all the pebbles
on the
shore
you lied.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ambition
what i hold inside my pocket is just a pebble.
it is all that i have now.
i take it again put it on the table and look at its face closely
you know that it has no eyes
or hands or feet, i let it stay there as though there is only one pebble
in this universe of sands, i listen.
i let time stop for a while.
i look at the sky tonight and there are so many stars.
they are so distant you know that and you feel that
i take the pebble back in my pocket,
there will be no exchange, it is enough for my anchor
it is now my own rock.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beach Pebble
Everyone has
at one time or other,
picked up a pebble on the beach,
turned it over in their hands,
sensed something of its uniqueness,
how millions of years have gone to the splitting
and the smoothing of the rock,
to the perfect shaping of the pebble.
Few of us stop and think for longer.
It is a momentary glimpse into an eternal process,
but we dropp the pebble and carry on walking along the beach.
poem by Howlin' Dervish
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Pebbles
pillow of comfort and ease
like pebbles over the waving stream
soothing, authentic and pebbling
my eyes see each pebble
as it glitters beyond the still water(s)
and smiles back at me in awe
each pebble utters a thousand words
with one but different meanings
for one word
a diverse attitude of meaning,
i rise to my body and pebbled
by the waves on the banks of the river
footing towards, to pick a pebble
as i close(d) my eyes to rest
on my pillow...
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Pebble
Time ia pebble
Life is water
Comeup with pebble
To make life pure
And truthful.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Pebble Passage Through Water
pebble rough pebble
smooth seen
vein colour adored
which makes
most beautiful ripples
on dark water?
behold beauty
of ripples
forget not
sound of entry
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Epigram III.
A Heated Fancy, or Imagination,
May be mistaken for an Inspiration -
True; but is this Conclusion fair to make,
That Inspiration must be all mistake?
A pebble Stone is not a Diamond - true;
But must a Di'mond be a Pebble too?
poem by John Byrom
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Under The Banana Tree
under the banana tree
juan
waited for the
magic pebble
to fall
for him to swallow
on the belief
that
he will turn
into
an invisible
juan
the whole
night
he dreamt
that the
magic pebble
landed
on his mouth
wide open
by an unknown
spell
juan
turned into
a banana
tree
and all
the neighbors
his parents
mourned
for him
at least
one thing
sure
happened
he floated
turned
himself
an
invisible
juan
and he
looks
at all of
them
somewhere
from the
top
they call
it
heaven
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Pebble In The Ocean
I dropp
I dropp a pebble in to the ocean
just to see
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion
But I don't know
no I don't know
which way this worlds going to go
the summer
the summer seems like its ready to snow
and winter
winter wants to have summers glow.
so I throw
I throw a pebble into the ocean
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion
I'm waiting for it to explode
with all the destruction we cause it never seems to go
the smoke
the smoke makes the ocean
makes the ocean choke
the bottle doesn't reach you
the message was my love note that I wrote
for you
I wrote a love note for you
and now the maps gone missing
and I haven't got a clue
I don't know what to do
all I know is I want you.
So I dropp
I dropp a pebble in to the ocean
just to see
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion.
Yes I dropp
I dropp a pebble in to the ocean
just to see
just to see if there will be some kind of explosion.
poem by Daniel McCann
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About You Then
YOU WERE a pebble
on the road
it was muddy
and it rained, and
i picked you from
that unspeakable
mess, and
i kept you warm in
my hand
even talked to you
and i polished you
and people
adored you until
you transformed into
a star
and you acquired
light
and speed and you
found your place in the
skies
at night you shine
like any other
star
you are so distant
and
untouchable
my palms miss you
my eyes can
only have the look
my heart
can only have
that lightness
when you were once
a pebble
inside my
hold.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Pebble
I toss a pebble in the brook.
I close my eyes then take a look.
I see the ripples in circular form
and watch it increase in size.
When the water becomes still again
I toss another stone.
Being able to do this continuous thing
while I’m all alone
calms my mind and brings me peace.
And I forget for these minutes of time
everything that troubles me.
And I understand that I’m
just like the pebble I throw.
I create an effect that I know
makes ripples on the folks I meet
wherever it is I go.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Short; Nature; Silly; Birds: The Pebble (Boink)
For ten thousand years, on a lofty mountain ledge, the shiny pebble sat,
until this afternoon when a brazen raven.....dropped it squarely on my hat.
I guess I had it coming, as I planned to steal chicks from her nest.
Soooo...I guess I'll now give up my quest, ... and hike back home to rest.
But, ....although I've forgiven the offending bird....[who's croaking now with glee],
I'll tweak her beak unmercifully.....if she drops, again, that pebble on me!
poem by Bri Edwards
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O' Dear Pebble
the elephants cannot walk over you
the birds and the worth of words over you
but in case they do, careful they ought to be
for yours is the flower that blossom
that which no man can see that either
can them that otherwise not known to you
for you is the strength of mine hands
and so it goes the pebble on my palm
that my eyes caught by the pebbles
and caught by the words
you uttered o' dear pebble
the words you made me walk in thought
the answers some i did not
have until on my hand i picked you
the dances on my palm caught me
dancing to the music
i barely could hear
not that i could not
but the rhythm i tell you
was the soul to my heart in talk
and so were that man that walked their path
that man that looks their path
to see where next to foot step
and endorse my foot print
on the yards of the pebbles
as i lifted my head too
in talk to mine with you
but was in thought of memory
since i had long taken you back home
to see you next in the next day
of existence
as i hope to not to die tonight
rather see you before if i do
for i so in dire need to see you
o' dear pebble of my hand
opn12092012/2154
poem: o' dear pebble
poet: onalethuso petruss ntema
book title: the pebbles
© september 2012
book no.10 of 2012
ntema's unique poetry (nup)
email: opncompanies.bw2gmail.com
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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The Blackbird
the black bird knows
places
it has flown all these years
but it is not
telling stories
what is in there?
what is the reason
for coming back?
the black stone
is its king and comes back
again
to worship it
until it takes it
pebble by pebble
inside its beak
inside its heart
and then the blackbird flies again
not coming back
it has taken what it loves
inside its heart.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stanzas to Cynthio
As o'er the sands the youthful Cynthio strayed,
Moist from the wave he saw a pebble shine,
While, with its borrowed lustre charmed, he said
"Henceforth this sparkling treasure shall be mine."
But when his hand had dried the glistening prize,
Wond'ring he found the pebble beamed no more!
Then, having viewed it with disdainful eyes,
He, frowning, whirled it to its native shore.
Suppress thy fruitless rage! and on thy heart
Let this, sweet boy, a moral truth impress,
To blunt the power of Disappointment's dart,
And make the dangerous sway of Fancy less.
As o'er the pebble's form the waves had shed
In silver dews a soft attractive power,
So Fancy's hand delights in youth to spread
Delusive colours on the future hour.
Moist from her pencil tempting scenes arise;
On common life, romance's tints she lays;
Till cold Reality her hand applies,
And at the touch each flattered form decays.
Ingenuous boy, warned by experience, now
The pebble's charms shall tempt thine eyes no more;
Would that my verse, my Cynthio, could bestow
A shield to guard thee against Fancy's power!
poem by Amelia Opie
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Hello There? Anybody Home?
did i tell you once that i also like to become an echo?
that i like to ask the simple question to the mountain
like: Hello? Is there anybody there?
as though, there is this scene that the world has ended
and i am the only one left,
and there is nothing but smoke and emptiness,
boulders of rocks with not a tree to accentuate the final scene of survival,
or a moss to tell me that life still exist
on a creek without a single dew on its priceless pebble,
know what? i am happy today to know that you are still there
so far away like an undiscovered distant planet that the light years
have not known yet to measure
i know that somehow we share the same madness.
Poetry.
know what? Be happy too.
I have someone else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Get em Out By Friday
John pebble of styx enterprises
Get em out by friday!
You dont get paid till the last ones well on his way.
Get em out by friday!
Its important that we keep to schedule, there must be no delay.
Mark hall of styx enterprises (otherwise known as the winkler)
I represent a firm of gentlemen who recently purchased this
House and all the others in the road,
In the interest of humanity weve found a better place for you
To go, go-woh, go-woh
Mrs. barrow (a tenant)
Oh no, this I cant believe,
Oh mary, theyre asking us to leave.
Mr. pebble
Get em out by friday!
Ive told you before, s good many gone if we let them stay.
And if it isnt easy,
You can squeeze a little grease and our troubles will soon run away.
Mrs. barrow
After all this time, they ask us to leave,
And I told them we could pay double the rent.
I dont know why it seemed so funny,
Seeing as how theyd take more money.
The winkler called again, he came here this morning,
With four hundred pounds and a photograph of the place he has found.
A block of flats with central heating.
I think were going to find it hard.
Mr. pebble
Now weve got them!
Ive always said that cash cash cash can do anything well.
Work can be rewarding
When a flash of intuition is a gift that helps you
Excel-sell-sell-sell.
Mr. hall
Here we are in harlow new town, did you recognise your block
Across the square, over there,
Sadly since last time we spoke, weve found weve had to raise
The rent again,
Just a bit.
Mrs. barrow
Oh no, this I cant believe
Oh mary, and we agreed to leave.
(a passage of time)
18/9/2012 t.v. flash on all dial-a-program services
This is an announcement from genetic control:
It is my sad duty to inform you of a four foot restriction on
Humanoid height.
Extract from coversation of joe ordinary in local puborama
I hear the directors of genetic control have been buying all the
Properties that have recently been sold, taking risks oh so bold.
Its said now that people will be shorter in height,
They can fit twice as many in the same building site.
(they say its alright),
Beginning with the tenants of the town of harlow,
In the interest of humanity, theyve been told they must go,
Told they must go-go-go-go.
Sir john de pebble of united blacksprings international
I think Ive fixed a new deal
A dozen properties - well buy at five and sell at thirty four,
Some are still inhabited,
Its time to send the winkler to see them,
Hell have to work some more.
Memo from satin peter of rock development ltd.
With land in your hand, youll be happy on earth
Then invest in the church for your heaven.
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soliloquy For An Early Morning Sigh
syllables soon
form the word
that you want
to utter this early
morning, they
lurk there for
the whole night
like a cocoon
and then something
like a moth comes
out and so you
open your mouth
something blue and
winged and beautiful
and it flies away
like a pebble that
you thrown away
against the dark
you may pretend
that it does not
know you but hell
sure it knows you
well enough and
it is seeking the
help of the dusk
who can deny it?
not your heart that
stil still beat for love.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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