Beach,4 P.m. Somewhere...
as i walk along the beach
this afternoon
i give in to the child in me
picking up stones,
amazed by its colors
and shapes
i begin to make stories out
of them...stones, smaller ones,
like a creature possessed by an
enigma,
there must be an underlying
truth to its
shape, it is, as it must
be telling me about
what happens to me
after this?
is this a hurting enigma?
am i mad at my attempt to give meaning
to one without meaning?
i am interpreting a pebble
the smallness of humility the silence
of the insignificant
the wars of the sands
the struggle of the waves of the sea
chasing each other
as to who reaches the thighs of
the shore first
a mad man is reading the shores
of the sea on
a very insignificant moment of the day
the stones are writing novels
on the hot skins of the shores
people who pass me by are sparing me
of saying anything
and they refuse to look at me and give
that look
of that feeling that i must have been
one kind of
a wasted man
a child looks at me with pity
and asks, what are you doing with the pebbles?
are they speaking to you?
i am awakened by this vastness
sometimes to be found, i must experience being lost myself
in the secret labyrinths of
thought
the child is looking for play,
i do not have it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Give This Child What She Needs
Give this child what she needs
Love
Give this child what she needs
Shelter
Give this child what she needs
Prayers
Give this child what she needs
Some food and water
Give this child what she needs
Good parents
Give this child what she needs
Good manors
Give this child what she needs
A smoke free home
Give this child what she needs
Peace and happiness
Give this child what she needs
To know God
Give this child what she needs
Your guidance
Give this child what she needs
Clothes
Give this child what she needs
Your support
Give this child what she needs
Some family time
Give this child what she needs
A nice bath every day
Give this child what she needs
Some discipline
Give this child what she needs
A warm bed to sleep on
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Conceit and Deceit
what i have in my hands
are only stones
if you search for more
pebbles
my mind can give you
but first
you must entice me
with a flower in your hand
for you to have stones
that soon will grow you
some leaves of sand
that soon shall show you
how pebbles can be flowers
too
what you have are only
flowers
a little bit lighter than
the twigs of their source
what i have in my hands
are pebble that give us weight
yes, weight is wisdom
and they are all stones
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Give a Child...
Proudly for Seth ~ Ryan who graduated as
an Aerospace Engineer last week!
Give a child a great education
You give them the world
Give a child science and math
You give them access
Give a child a sense of wonder
You give them joy
Give a child poetry, paint, l.e.d.s, aluminum foil and sparkles
You give them creativity
Give a child accountability
You give them integrity
Give a child an understanding of spirit
You give them faith
Give a child an entire community
You give them responsilbility
Give a child your undivided time
You give them security
Give a child a life by example
You give them the map for success
Give a child hugs
You give them love!
~May 26,2006
Mountaintop Cottage, Tennessee
poem by Debora Short
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Stones
Stones
Stones would play inside her head
And where she slept,
They made her bed
And she would ache
For love and get but stones
La la la la la la la la la
Lordy, child
A good days comin
And Ill be there to let the sun in
And bein lost
Is worth the comin home
La la la la la la la la la on stones
You and me, a time for planting
You and me, a harvest granting
The every prayer ever prayed
For just two wild flowers that grow
La la la la la la la la la on stones
Mmmmmmmm.....
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rucksack Full Of Stones
A Babe…
Born perfect, innocent, ready
Cast into a corrupt world
Parents eagerly present
A family heirloom
A patchwork rucksack
Part-filled with stones
To a wide-eyed child
Begins the journey…
Child given stones of many shapes, sizes
Stones of pity, sorrow, fear, trauma
Stones filled with words like “No”
Stones filled with ugly phrases
Stones filled with abuse, punishment, pain
Rucksack seams burgeon
A growing Soul shouts
“Enough”
Emptying begins…
Through lessons, experiences, prayer
One by one
Removed the stones
Rucksack lightens
By the Grace of God,
Finally emptied
Another Babe born
Rucksack beckons
“Not this time”
Rucksack flung
Into Wisdom’s Fire
Consumed
Ends a vicious cycle…
poem by Ray Lucero
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Beach after storm
The largest stones are piled against the sea-wall
since that huge storm, a hundred years ago.
For the sea will never leave the beach alone –
might you think it would fling
the smallest stones the furthest?
No – to re-assert its power,
it challenges the heftiest resistance,
with inexhaustible, ruthless determination
rolling, thrusting, flinging in impatient storm
the largest, furthest; then grading with such patient delicacy
over the years, the smooth but fine-scratched stones
of so many colours – how can it have found,
how long for it to find, so many lucent colours of wet stone?
These sometime finds – searching with a child’s fine eye –
of purest pebbled marble - how many thousand miles
has the sea rolled these from southern shores?
And these smooth stones of reddest brick,
or rubbed, etched glass? Or ancient serpentine,
bright green?
Then after a night of wildest storm,
the air intoxicating with its ozone,
new treasures thrown up on the beach:
green glass globes from fishing nets,
cork mats, boat wood, torn seaweed
in thick chunks like beached, exhausted octopods;
the beach re-shaped; even some parabolas of sand
while the seethe… keesh… of the dying storm
draws incessantly, then spews the finest shingle
in its maw like a hungry concrete-mixer.
The beach spreads out its shining, wet
new treasure for the child-bright eye.
This afternoon, the rock pools will be full;
all will be new; sea-god a child again.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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But now I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth.
quote by Umberto Eco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth.
quote by Umberto Eco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes a Faith is similar to stones
Sometimes a Faith is similar to stones,
To rocks, so hard and heavy, in their masses...
As well as the variety of talks,
Of languages, which are the only world reflection.
A child, picking up the words as stones,
Get aquainted gradually through life
With their meaning with his heart...
When being old - he is looking at the rock-words,
Amazed greatly in his mind
With their deepness
In the view of his experience...
And he learns at once, that Faith, Belief - is alive!
It shines brightly and luminous
In the moist air of grumbles of
Blizzards and thunderstorms...
Sufferings, that had come above the heads...
The Faith of words, the whisper of the bases
Of the worlds, which were left behind the stern
Of the ship, floating in the Time ocean...
Faith... With a Faith of words... the World is created...
====
In russian:
http: //www.stihi.ru/2012/05/04/8013
poem by Lyudmila Purgina
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Eyes of a child
Eyes of a child
Such gems in stones
Staring you close
Still as blue sky
They don't lie
Their sun is shining
While you are crying
Eyes of a child
Day or night
I got no light
Free as a child
I can be wild
Eyes of a child
Let them go, into the snow
Without your grace
There's a lot more to know
Just glance over their face
It's the eye of a child
Free and wild
Child don't think too much
Ain't no worry as such
Joy driven life they live
Half-a-soul they give
It's the eyes of a child
Free and wild
Save me child
Save me child
Set me free and wild
Eyes of my child
poem by Siddharth Shah
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Child Come Away
Written by ricky & marty wilde
Child come away
Its the girl with the deputy walking by
Child go and play
No I wont give you reasons so dont ask why
I read the story about a week ago
They found her on the beach that night
They thought the light had gone out of her eyes
And no-one thinks shell ever be right
She was so full of her life
Happy with the people she knew
But then no-one can tell
Child come away
Its the girl with the deputy walking by
Child go and play
No I wont give you reasons so dont ask why
Guess all they found were some marks in the sand
A message saying she is mine
Nobody touched her as she got in the car
Well nobody dares to anytime
She was so full of her life
The girl that everybody once knew
But now no-one can tell
Child come away
Its the girl with the deputy walking by
Child go and play
No I wont give you reasons so dont ask why
And when they read a story out to the judge
I heard they had to turn away
Its all over town
I saw her face in the back of a car
As they were speeding out of town
Shes got a mark on the side of her face
That no-ones ever seen around
And what she is or what shes become
I guess the town will never know
Child come away
Its the girl with the deputy walking by
Child go and play
No I wont give you reasons so dont ask why
song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Child In Me
I am a full-grown man
With a wife and children
A good job to do
Have all that I need
People think
I have lot of experience
To share with others
I give to them
What is expected from me?
But do not hide
The child in me
At times
I cry and laugh like him
Ask questions
As a child does
Play and behave like him
I know
Childhood cannot return
But the child in me
Takes me back
To the carefree
World of A child
No matter,
How old I become
I do not want
The child in me to die
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Tell Me Child
Little one
Sweet child
Play me a song
Let it fill me up
Let it bring me joy
Tell me how to sing along
Tell me how to dance
Tiny one
Lovely child
Give me a game
Let it make me laugh
Let it give me hope
Tell me how to be young
Tell me how to live
Small one
Good child
Give me a day
Let me have a life like yours
Let me follow in your ways
Tell me how to dream
Tell me how to love
Because dear child
In this big bad world
It’s so easy to forget
poem by Fae Sebastian
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The Eyes Of A Child
(graham russell and ron bloom)
When you look to the past for lifes long hidden meaning
For the dreams and the plans made in your youth
Does the thrill to achieve match the warm hidden feeling
That lies so still and lives in you
In the eyes of a child there is joy, there is laughter
There is hope, there is trust, a chance to shape the future
For the lessons of life there is no better teacher
Than the look in the eyes of a child
Youve found the place to walk the path youve chosen
Youll never miss the world youve left behind
When life gives life, its happiness unbroken
When you give love, its love youll find
In the eyes of a child there is joy, there is laughter
There is hope, there is trust, a chance to shape the future
For the lessons of life there is no better teacher
Than the look in the eyes of a child
In the eyes of a child there is joy, there is laughter
There is hope, there is trust, a chance to shape the future
For the lessons of life there is no better teacher
Than the look in the eyes of a child
In the eyes of a child there is joy, there is laughter
There is hope, there is trust, a chance to shape the future
For the lessons of life there is no better teacher
Than the look in the eyes of a child
song performed by by Air Supply
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Child Within
She loved the man
Who stayed the night
That made the child
Lord it seemed so right
Her mamma cried
And her daddy swore
It nearly broke her heart
She needed so much more
Life begin oh child within
Life begin a child within
Who can say
Why lovers part
Shell always keep a place for him
Inside her heart
He writes a bit
And people seem sincere
But she wished theyd call it more than
Just a souvenir
Life begin a child within
Life begin a child within
She fell in love
Was that a crime
Shes not a bad girl
But you know it happens all the time
You give yourself
To the one you love
Tomorrow heartbreak
You never dream of
Life begin a child within
Life begin a child within
Life begin a child within
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We, Here,
we, here,
we are like stones
there are no hands
that clap
no mouths that make
the praise
we are like the stones
of the shores of the sea
about to be annihilated
by the convolutions of time and thoughts.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Old Child
Child. Old child,
No longer wild;
No longer speaking,
No longer beguiled;
I have become
A quiet old child.
Child. Old child,
No longer cold;
Never an old man,
Always too old;
I have become
An old child tenfold.
Child. Old child,
Forever a child;
Always rethinking,
Always exiled.
I should become
A happy old child.
Child. Old child.
Always soft-spoken;
No longer breaking,
Still being broken;
I have become
An old child, unspoken.
Child. Old child,
No longer bold;
By thinking, rethinking
Of stories untold,
All through my childhood,
I've become... old.
poem by Mihai Cosmescu
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Your Child
(03/08/11)
Oh my child! If you could only see
How you’ve become such a big part of me.
I see your future thru your eyes
And how in this life you will strive.
There will be hard roads and obstacles
That you must pass.
But! I know they will not last.
Build your dreams and set your goals
That is the thing that you must hold.
There will always be winding roads
And at you people will throw stones.
But! There is something that you must understand
You are the future of this land.
You can make changes, no matter how small
Your dreams don’t have to be big
They don’t have to be tall.
Like a jigsaw puzzle- little pieces
Complete the picture, for all the world to see.
You can do anything when done in unity.
Don’t ever think that there is nothing
That you can contribute.
A thought, a suggestion, a kind little word
These are the things that are felt and heard.
It takes billions of grains of sand to make a beach
With out each one- it would not be reached.
Your child is the futures lifeline
Teach them right and they’ll be fine.
poem by Louis Rams
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Collecting Pebbles
It was from the sands of a windswept beach
I picked up pebbles that were easy to reach.
They had attracted my attention while walking by
their coloured well formed shape caught the eye.
There were so many to choose from I had to decide
in selecting those which my fancy would coincide.
It’s truly amazing what some people see in stone
a subject in which a lot of our imagination is prone.
It was almost as if I’d found treasure on the seashore
and couldn’t help myself as I looked around for more.
The simple joy of collecting something that attracts the mind
is an age old activity which all people do have of some kind.
There were the questions of how many would I take
and what, if anything with them, one could make?
They were so abundant and all varied mostly in size
that it wasn’t hard to imagine an object or visualize.
It was also only the first location at which I found
that I thought surely there must be others around.
So with a sense of adventure I looked forward to explore
another beach while making my way home along the shore.
There were several other stops made further on the way
collecting various coloured pebbles amidst the sea spray.
Many times would I get my sandals wet along that coast
going amongst rocks and sand to the waters edge at most.
It was with a sense of gain and loss then after I’d taken enough
deciding right there and then to stop collecting which was tough.
The next step would be to think about and see what I would do
with all those beautiful pebbles gathered while passing through.
Maybe I could approach someone with the right flair and skill
who could make something with them and imagination fulfill.
That natural forming eroding action of water, ice, wind and sand
rarely requires the finishing touches of some other skillful hand.
Perhaps in fashioning some jewellery using metal to bind
a few pebbles together that are different or a similar kind.
Or maybe I could just keep some myself and give the rest away
a gesture of friendship toward which our memories would play.
Yes it was from the sands of many a windswept lonely beach
I came accross and collected pebbles that were within reach.
Isn’t it truly amazing what some people see in stone?
a subject in which much of our imagination is prone.
poem by George Krokos
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