Stone
A stone
I am,
A stone
You are.
Both of us
Are stones
To each other.
Breaking the stones
And reconciling....
Why bother?
Were we not in
Endless pain…
When together?
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Related quotes
The Air is a Root
The air is a root.
The stones are filled with tenderness. bravo.
bravo. the stones are filled with air.
the stones are watery branches.
on the stones replacing the mouth
grows the skeleton of a leaf. bravo.
A stone voice face to face and foot to foot
with a stone glance.
the stones are tormented like flesh
the stones are clouds for their second
nature dances to them on their third nose.
bravo. bravo.
when the stones scratch themselves, nails grow
on the roots. bravo. bravo.
the stones woke to eat the exact
hour
The Gift Of Medusa (clerical Correction As Requested By Candice Salazar, , , Thanks)
we may think that those she turned
to stone
hate her, but how do we know?
we haven't heard yet
any stone talking?
sometimes i wonder
stones are happier for whatever happened
i need to know those stories before
the turning
for sometimes i think
that Medusa is a gift, there are those
who, in reality, have become stones
but never really come out
in the open.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Gifts Of Medusa...
we may think that those she turned
to stone
hate her, but how do we know?
we haven't hears yet
any stone talking?
sometimes i wonder
stones are happier for whatever happened
i need to know those stories before
the turning
for sometimes i think
that Medusa is a gift, there are those
who, in reality, have become stones
but never really come out
in the open.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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She
She grew up without very much
She didn't know who her father was
She met a boy and her heart he stole
So she gave him all her body and soul
She's not ready to face
The outcome of their mistake
It's brought her nothing but pain
And she's too young for this fate
SHE'S ALONE
CAUGHT UP IN THE UNDERTOW
WHERE IT TAKES HER NO ONE KNOWS
THAT'S HOW IT GOES, THAT'S HOW IT GOES
WHEN WE THROW STONES
People denied and criticized
They sent her away isolated
Caught in a bad dream, her plea rejected
They left her alone and neglected
They put her out on display
Showcasing all her mistakes
She's worn out and she's afraid
Why does it always happen this way?
[refrain]
She went to them for help
But blindly they cast the first stone
They could have taken her in
Instead they left her on her own
All alone
[refrain]
When we throw stones at the wounded
We throw stones at the brokenhearted
That's how it goes when we throw stones
song performed by by ZoeGirl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Temporary Poem Of My Time
Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west,
Latin writing, from west to east.
Languages are like cats:
You must not stroke their hair the wrong way.
The clouds come from the sea, the hot wind from the desert,
The trees bend in the wind,
And stones fly from all four winds,
Into all four winds. They throw stones,
Throw this land, one at the other,
But the land always falls back to the land.
They throw the land, want to get rid of it.
Its stones, its soil, but you can't get rid of it.
They throw stones, throw stones at me
In 1936, 1938, 1948, 1988,
Semites throw at Semites and anti-Semites at anti-Semites,
Evil men throw and just men throw,
Sinners throw and tempters throw,
Geologists throw and theologists throw,
Archaelogists throw and archhooligans throw,
Kidneys throw stones and gall bladders throw,
Head stones and forehead stones and the heart of a stone,
Stones shaped like a screaming mouth
And stones fitting your eyes
Like a pair of glasses,
The past throws stones at the future,
And all of them fall on the present.
Weeping stones and laughing gravel stones,
Even God in the Bible threw stones,
Even the Urim and Tumim were thrown
And got stuck in the beastplate of justice,
And Herod threw stones and what came out was a Temple.
Oh, the poem of stone sadness
Oh, the poem thrown on the stones
Oh, the poem of thrown stones.
Is there in this land
A stone that was never thrown
And never built and never overturned
And never uncovered and never discovered
And never screamed from a wall and never discarded by the builders
And never closed on top of a grave and never lay under lovers
And never turned into a cornerstone?
Please do not throw any more stones,
You are moving the land,
The holy, whole, open land,
You are moving it to the sea
And the sea doesn't want it
The sea says, not in me.
Please throw little stones,
Throw snail fossils, throw gravel,
Justice or injustice from the quarries of Migdal Tsedek,
Throw soft stones, throw sweet clods,
Throw limestone, throw clay,
Throw sand of the seashore,
Throw dust of the desert, throw rust,
Throw soil, throw wind,
Throw air, throw nothing
Until your hands are weary
And the war is weary
And even peace will be weary and will be.
Translated from the Hebrew by Barbara and Benjamin Harshav
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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You Think That I Am Hurt?
the years solidify pain
they turn into stone they become more silent
unmoved untouched think of them are strong
and self-sufficient,
unaffected, they watch everything pass
time and turbulence
of the seasons
the overflowing of the rivers
they live and survived
stones as they are
they do breathe they do not speak
so you think that i am really hurt?
i am stone. And it is not my new name.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stone Exchange
She knocked and entered
I have a gift for you
What he said
You can't do
In her hand was
A stone
Was she going to throw it
Who knows
She was so unpredictable
With that she smiled
And said this is it
A stone
A simple stone
Purple brown and grey
She placed it on the table
I took it out of my heart
Our hearts
For us
And every morning since
They exchanged stones
From their hearts
Soon they had
A little pile
Of freedom
poem by Harriet James
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The old man and his stone
an old man
seated alone
on his stone bench
invited me
almost invisible
gesticulating with his hand
sit down beside me
we did not say a word
together we just heard
nothing but our silence
he invited me
to take a look in his garden
he took me by my hand
guiding me
through the open gate
he gave me a grand tour
in his Japanese paradise
and wanted to know
if I would be able
to show him
that spot
he was searching for
all his life
so he could also see
all the larger stones
at once
I'll wait
and watch you
I stood
I sat down
I climbed a tree
while being up there
I could see
a smile on his face
expressing understanding grace
I walked around
accompanied
by the sound
of crackling shelves
I can count endlessly
maybe even further
In that serene garden
I could not find the spot
that place where I could see
all his stones
although I learned
during that search
there were fifteen different larger stones
that unknown space
where I see and count
the old man's 15th stone
there I was on my own
still searching
it was late
at last I returned
sat down beside the old man
on the other stone bench
he offered me his silence
and told me with his eyes
that a man or a woman
is wise
when admitting
accepting
a simple fact
you can see
you can count
all the stones
not at once
not on your own
©Ellie Daphne van Stralen 2012
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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The Stone That You Love
you are unique
for having loved a stone
how did the stone
entice you?
are you seduced by
its silence?
are you tempted by
its solitude?
you take the pain
poking the stone to
your heart
and you bleed
you rub the stone
in the skin of your body
hoping that someday
the stone may have
feelings and
love you
but this is all useless
the stone is a stone is a stone
and there is no love
in its blank stare
there is no softness in its
belly
i ponder upon this
and come to think of it
you and the stone
are the same
on this hardheadedness
this futility
this numbness
this suffering without end
the stone can never give
a part of its cracks
it will never part with its
dust
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poem (‘It Doesn’t Look Like A Finger...’)
It doesn’t look like a finger it looks like a feather of broken glass
It doesn’t look like something to eat it looks like something eaten
It doesn’t look like an empty chair it looks like an old woman
searching in a heap of stones
It doesn’t look like a heap of stones it looks like an estuary where
the drifting filth is swept to and fro on the tide
It doesn’t look like a finger it looks like a feather with broken teeth
The spaces between the stones are made of stone
It doesn’t look like a revolver it looks like a convolvulus
It doesn’t look like a living convolvulus it looks like a dead one
KEEP YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF MY FRIENDS USE THEM ON
YOUR BITCHES OR
YOURSELVES BUT KEEP THEM OFF MY FRIENDS
The faces between the stones are made of bone
It doesn’t look like an eye it looks like a bowl of rotten fruit
It doesn’t look like my mother in the garden it looks like my father
when he came up from the sea covered in shells and tangle
It doesn’t look like a feather it looks like a finger with broken wings
It doesn’t look like the old woman’s mouth it looks like a handful
of broken feathers or a revolver buried in cinders
The faces beneath the stones are made of stone
It doesn’t look like a broken cup it looks like a cut lip
It doesn’t look like yours it looks like mine
BUT IT IS YOURS NOW
SOON IT WILL LOOK LIKE YOURS
AND ANYTHING YOU SEE WILL BE USED AGAINST YOU
London Bulletin, No. 2 (May 1938), 7.
poem by Hugh Sykes Davies
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Stones
unless you use a hammer
a stone is a stone
with its steadfast character
cold, shapely and colourful
a consciousness
linked it to the centre to my heart
we are one
if there are enough men
who have more characters
than these stones!
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Wall!
Why persist?
Why do not you gave up after all?
Do you not see how this wall
that you try to fall apart
is brick and stone?
Stronger?
Oldest?
Do you think
that your torment, your pain
soften its contours?
Adorn your stone walls?
Do not you see that
is brick and stone?
Fall one day?
Just the sound it will do
Just like in Jericho!
Be Mute!
Be Inert!
Dead!
We thank you!
Leave Us !
Tears to shed
comes from fleeting moment!
But if water is strong,
violent stream
A river meeting the sea!
you reveal the way for us
And when you're
Tired and all the work already done
Allow us navigate your river bed.
bricks and stones on our head!
poem by Mirna Morgan
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The stones tear like flesh, rather than breaking. Although what happens is violent, it is a violence that is in stone. A tear is more unnerving than a break.
quote by Andy Goldsworthy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hard As Stone
the setback with
this racial thing
is too many men try
to have a hand in it
and most try to get
the upper hand
it always feels nice
to be at the side
that makes you feel
good though not
necessarily right
a stone can be used
for so many metaphors
like a character solid
as a stone or
a head cold and
unfeeling as a stone
many choose to be the latter
if we have more men with
characters hard and beautiful
as stones, diamonds, rubies
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Einstein, Nicholas, My Fantastic Wife And Our Dog On The Beach At Home
a stone
a relative stone
a meteoric stone
a Newtonian stone
a photoelectric stone
a stone from Manhattan
a thermodynamic stone
one stone
a son
in my life
in my wife
a sun
alone
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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All Alone
She died in a house
Empty and alone.
They found her there
As cold as a stone.
A stone knows its place.
It stays on the ground.
But it's never alone.
Other stones are around.
But a woman alone
Who simply dies
Is out of place
'Cause no one cries.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Stepping Stones
Baby youve been up, broken down
Every man knows your name in this whole damn town
In every bar they know your drink, what should I think
I turned around to look and you gave some dude a wink
I thought Id be happy with a woman like you,
But you walked on my pride and my manhood too
I dont know too much but one thing I know
A man stuck on you is like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
What you forgot to mention, what was your real intention
Did you want a man to love, or someone to prop and carry you up
To a higher status, but the matter of fact is, your detachment
Will bring you further down and now youre all used up
Dont bother coming round
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Well, I remember back to waht you put me thru
I keep thinking to myself
Whats wrong with you
Aint it enough to have a man for a lover and a friend
Tear him up and leave him when the moneys spent
Well, youre just like delilah sittin in her den
You take the strongest man and break em down again
But I have gained some knowledge
Go on pack your things and move back to college
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
Because you keep using me like a stepping stone
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reflection 0.2
when you arrive here
there is no stone not a single stone
there is no moss not a single hair of a green moss
then there was the pain of waiting
time is always delaying its coming
trains stopped and cars are having flat tires
but you are faithful you keep on waiting you entertain promises
like dear memories or dreams or wishes that come true somehow
and you waited for so long
now this place is filled with stones and moss grow in each body of the stone
the waters spread their territories and land is emaciated
and the house is covered with water and the roof is gone
and there is nobody here anymore and it is only i who remember you and
i tell them about you and they do not believe me
and i feel like i am a ship that just sunk.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rainy Day Women #12 & 35
Well, they'll stone ya when you're trying to be so good,
They'll stone ya just a-like they said they would.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home.
Then they'll stone ya when you're there all alone.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone ya when you're walkin' 'long the street.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to keep your seat.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' on the floor.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' to the door.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
They'll stone ya when you're at the breakfast table.
They'll stone ya when you are young and able.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to make a buck.
They'll stone ya and then they'll say, "good luck."
Tell ya what, i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you and say that it's the end.
Then they'll stone you and then they'll come back again.
They'll stone you when you're riding in your car.
They'll stone you when you're playing your guitar.
Yes, but i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you when you walk all alone.
They'll stone you when you are walking home.
They'll stone you and then say you are brave.
They'll stone you when you are set down in your grave.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Stone
there is something about the stone
that i have been complaining
for not being able to understand
its choice to be silent
and hard
and numb and uncommitted
when it is thrown in the river
it makes no sound of protest
when it is ground
it does not scream
when the rain comes it seems
to be contented with being wet
just the same when the sun shines
and heats it
it makes no bother
until some naughty boy takes a stone
and hits my head
and when i begin to bleed
seeing the very stone used
staring at me without guilt
for any responsibility at all
on the ground
that i begin to understand all these things
what a stone is, how come that a stone shall always be
a stone
no matter what.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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