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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Related quotes
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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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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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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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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Alone On The Beach
Awakened on the beach
Look at the patterns in the sand
Incredible patterns
Who made this beach? ?
This fantastic breach, by who's hand?
Each grain and pebble unique
All the flotsam and jetsum arranged just so
The name of the arranger I seek
Will the designer I ever know? ?
Could such things happen by chance? ?
Could nature arrange the things I see? ?
But where is the romance
If such things could just be? ?
No! ! I believe in the designer! !
His ways to me he'll show
How this perfect beach he made could not be finer
I pray the designer I'll know
To be alone on the beach I can not bear
Ther is a designer this I swear
But a moment later I might ask
Why this designer I never see
But a moment later I might ask
Am I alone, am I just me? ?
To be alone on this beach I can not bear
There is a designer this I swear
poem by Janie Hubbard
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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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Pebble
Time ia pebble
Life is water
Comeup with pebble
To make life pure
And truthful.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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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 Beach. It is tough and the lay out is amazing.
quote by Natalie Gulbis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Dead Starfish
washed up
on the beach
high tide’s brief wasting
a minute more, a minute less
the beach holds
sand secrets
to take or to give
back and forth we go
but time does not wait
as the last wave recedes
the next plunges forth
and wipes the slate
pebble and foam completely
clean.
(Previously published in The Oracular Tree, June 2003)
poem by Laurence Overmire
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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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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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0031 Autumn's wild, rough days
These wild, rough autumn days
as cooling Northern hemisphere
shudders towards its equinox
with gales and rain and blown-off leaves,
all the elements stirred up, and
bringing strange emotions;
everything is between;
but for children living by the sea,
days of joy and awe –
the sea, no longer blue
but savage brown-red, even emerald green,
which all the year
has bashed and nibbled at the cliffs
like kitchen-boy at pantried half-cut cake,
throws all its might as if it hated the whole idea of earth;
knowing that in one night,
it may do mighty things once in a while
that change the maps themselves – blocking estuaries
that have served ports for a thousand years,
with shingle banks; throwing new beaches
across bays, with stones so exquisitely graded
from rock to pebble, that it’s said,
night fishermen thrown onto such a beach without the moon
know exactly where they are by size of stone…
but for the child, a magic time:
the air’s a gift for lungs, like breathed champagne;
the sea after the gale is calming down;
but the beach is new: new toys thrown up,
seaweed of many shapes, still wild when wet,
along a new high tide line; stuff off ships, carved wood,
deck-mats, green globes that buoyed up nets,
boxes with some foreign words
to remind us that this same neighbour sea
has other foreign shores across the world..
and every stone and pebble, which yesterday
had muted, dusty-coloured, matt-textured anonymity,
now, wet with salty water, are translucent, shining jewels each one,
glass, white marble (and how far has that pebble come,
hassled and scoured across the ocean’s floor..) ,
rough granite of so many shades, hard serpentine,
purple, green, some striped; slate-blues, brick-reds, all
fit for a palace; gathered in an eager hand
which sees nothing in the world but gifts and miracles;
this lovely, wild, wild-hearted shore.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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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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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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Beaches
South Padre Island,
Ranks among the best.
South Beach,
And those along Key West...
Are favorite beaches,
I am blessed to have witnessed.
Long Beach and along the Pacific Coast...
Breathtaking are these scenic views,
With a temptation to remove one's shoes!
And the cruiseway connecting Tampa and Clearwater...
Ought to be outlawed for providing too much beauty!
And Ogunquit needs to stop it!
It's magnificence really is an eye popper!
Cape Cod and Pebble Beach.
I've tossed and turned...
Thinking about them in my sleep!
These beaches that grace our wonderful shores...
Should be visited for their exquisiteness.
If anyone believes,
Their lives are boring beyond their doors.
There is so much to explore and see.
Just sitting quietly on these beaches...
And letting one's imagination stretch and reach!
Like the cresting of the waves...
Massaging the sands.
As Seagulls dip for fish,
While the lilting fingers felt from breezes...
Display a coolness beneath Sun rays,
Quickly drying ocean mist!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Is A Wonder
It’s a Wonder
Old rock you who have lived through eons of time can you tell me when
the beginning began? Or is time a spinning wheel of perpetual motion,
a Nevada desert of killed gangsters, in shallow graves, waiting for me
to find their dry bones and seek closure by revenge. You needn’t answer,
our brother the pebble, soon to be dyed red and be a tiny part of a posh
driveway, says the ultimate goal for life is Nirvana which, for a pebble,
means to be a golden ring around a tropical island.
When the wheel stops having spun a cardigan to keep you warm as you
sail to the mystical, misty island of Saragossa Sea. Only you have to pay,
now since a venture capitalist bought the island (including mist) and
turned it into a nautical themed amusement park.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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