Life Is ~ The Stones Under My Feet
Life is the stones under my feet
All the places I've walked
All the places I haven't
They say something about who I am
The pebbles that I pick up to toss in the ocean
The boulders I've sat on
The skipping stones I throw across the lake
Gravel and sand
And cobblestone streets
Places with history
Places where history is about to be written
And what it has to say for my history
All those stones that I've crunched
Under my boots
Or sandals
Or sneakers
Or just my bare feet
Walking carefully
And there occasionally is a piece of glass
When I cut myself I bleed
But I heal in the end
Then I get up to walk on more stones
Because life is where you choose to walk
And where you don't
poem by Indigo Rosedragon
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Related quotes
History Stones People.
History stones people.
They stoned Moses, David and Linclon,
history did that for all to see
Marbel and cement,
that's all it leaves behind
of a long changing life.
Great heroes of time,
fall under the mercy
of the sculptor's knife.
History stones faces,
in a way that would make
ecclestias cringe.
History stones feet,
in a way that would make
piligrims cry.
History stones life
to always stay fresh,
yet, what is life without
the sins of the flesh.
All the radical kids
get stoned
and never change
or even move a muscle.
All the sword raising warriors
history stoned
without blood in their veins.
You can see all the victims
that history stoned
when you walk in the park,
they got kings
and queens
hell, they even got Gods.
They are there captive
in history's stones,
never to be again what they were;
wilting flesh and
breakable bones.
People look up at them
they are victims too.
History's stones fall far,
even on to you.
Those stoned to live
are like the ones stoned to die.
enslaved to the search
of the frozen smile.
Life is a burning bush
that doesn't get consumed.
not a dead rock
or a statue of history.
It's a fusing wind
of happinnes and misery.
An exploding volcano
of courage and fear.
It is the stem of the flower
struggling through the seasons
to stand and bloom
above the drying soil.
Life is the fighting wave
you see at sea
forgotten and denied
by the stones of history.
poem by Samuel Katz
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Places
Places
We move in and out of watching
Faces
Float around the hotel lobby like
Fishes
Theyre all blowing air
We know it must mean something
But we just stare
We stood
On primrose hill like statues we were
So good
Walked along the locks and into
Camden
Tried on silver shoes
And orange plastic jackets
Places
We move in and out of fast as
Hail stones
Make jokes hey isnt that the the word for our
Tombstones
So that everyone will know
When theyre out one afternoon
Stop to read the stones
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
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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Can I like a child
Can I like a child
walk barefoot through life
without worrying,
where my feet treads,
the world would have stayed
big to me.
No stones of thorns
or hot tar roads
would have stopped me then,
to go back
to the old places.
Only in thoughts
a person can stop
somewhere in life
and see things,
through the eyes of a child.
Still life goes on
with its own pace and outcome
and we are all destined
to the reality of life
and of time
that ticks on
without delay.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Black History Month
In January...
There they are making history.
In February...
There they are making history.
In March...
There they are making history.
In April...
There they are making history.
In May...
There they are making history.
In June...
There they are making history.
In July...
There they are making history.
In August...
There they are making history.
In September...
There they are making history.
In October...
There they are making history.
In November...
There they are making history.
In December...
There they are making history.
But...
It's nice to know
The shortest month of the year
Was chosen to celebrate
The great deeds of African-Americans!
However...
It is those LEAP YEARS,
That really have the blacks jumping for joy!
Note: 'Black History Month' along with other
works of interest can be found in...
*'MindPrints from Untouched Places-VOL I'*
~Now available online at a PC near you~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Separation
If I walk a thousand miles
and have no place to go
my adventure will be worrisome
and all the things I know
will make me want to hesitate
before taking another stride.
For all the places I leave behind
are places where I cried.
But I needed the walk to show me
that escape was not the way.
All I did was travel right along
and at the end of the day
those miles I walked were numbing
and gave me nothing new.
So I walked a thousand more miles
and came back home to you.
My feet were sore. My heart was sore
but then I saw your face.
And all those miles that I walked
never could replace
the familiarity, the same old scene
and how being with you feels.
Time and space can't fix all wounds
but the walking somehow heals.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Stones Throw
I was a stones throw
From happiness
Feeling love grow in your caress
It was like nothing
I had felt or seen
And I waited impatiently
Oh, stones throw
And I cant stand to see you go
You hurt me bad, cut me down
But it just dont work without you
Without you around
It was a short walk
Now its a lonely ride
It turned my day
Into a lifeless night
It was my belief and
Now its my regret
Ive got a one way ticket
That I cant accept
Oh, just a stones throw
And I cant stand to see you go
You hurt me bad
You cut me down
But it just dont work without you
Without, without, without
Without you around
Oh, stones throw
And I cant stand to see you go
You hurt me bad, cut me down
But it just dont work without you
Gotta have you around
Gotta have you around ...
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stones of Death
I gather the stones of death,
My options are few and a breath;
This I design with my hands
And the feet may be from badlands.
The stones I picked deceived me,
Their large amount was ivory;
I wanted a little pebble or parable
To consist of the wisdom not horrible.
The horror I concerned myself with
Was loved by demons and the gunsmith;
Shooting carried disorder like stones,
Pebbles called bullets fired at bones.
poem by Naveed Akram
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What is this stones
What is this stones unless some cry
Shall echo back and give it life?
'T is not enough that it be rife
With history, with history.
poem by Philip Henry Savage
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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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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
Hand In Hand, Come Lets Love...
A dream it was, just a dream-
we were walking together with hand in hand
towards the Sun set where the sky and the earth
seemed to be holding together
you the emotional and impractical was arguing,
that they were destined to be together as we do-
me the practical with rationale was saying,
that for all eternity it can't be true;
we have walked a long way, the Sun has left the horizon
and the moon has taken his place with a gleam,
still we walked together with hand
in hand, into places unknown,
hoping to know, what's there at the end of the ends
and at the farthest of the farthest places-
each one trying to prove the other wrong, but wanna
see it for ourselves, with what's there after all-
blessed by thee, do they get to be together
or are they cursed to not to be
for all the distance we have walked together
and all the places left behind
the sky and the earth still seemed to be holding
together in the end of the ends and in the farthest
of the farthest places; so we were, holding ourselves
together with hand in hand, walking with stride to stride;
love is not there to be found or to be sought,
it is there to be lived, in every walk we walk
and every hold we hold, come what may, with hand
in hand together forever!
- to my love
poem by Senthil Kumar B
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There are some cities that I did take time out to study, 'cause I love history and one of them was Boston, and of course Rome and all of those places like that. But, in Syracuse or Rochester, or any of those places, no.
quote by Connie Francis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Do Not Rest On The Laurels Of Your Head
we get old
the laurels mean no more
they become irritants
to the lines in our forehead
we finally let go
of these decors
we take the chances of
negating fame
embracing the privacy
of the walk
beside the hills
feeling the stones on our bare feet
touching the winds
and listening to its roars
wading to the waters
getting wet
and then take the much missed
plunge
we wish we are gone somewhere
to places
where no one finds us
where we look at no shadows
we stare
at the sunset
and then find the silence of
the coming darkness
perhaps the moon shall be full
perhaps the stars will gather in magnificence
perhaps we can love again
loneliness like the grass that we cannot uproot
amidst the daisies
they become part of us
they become us
in love and tolerance
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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He is not wise who places a stones on his own roof.
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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Soul Dance
I will dance with you
It will be the dance of my soul
I will be open and honest
Show you my inner being
I will trust you
Take you to places in my soul that have been broken and restored
Places that cause pain and healing
Places that have hated and loved
Places I have forgotten and remembered
Places I have not visited in a long time and places I go every day
I will dance with you the dance of my soul
And feel your soul dance with mine to those same places in yours
poem by Mandi Ducroq
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Pebbles & Stones
Pebbles and stones,
Of different tones.
Oval or Round.
Black or Brown.
Smooth or rough
Oddly enough,
People collect
pebbles and stones.
They like to select
the smooth and round.
They like to select,
if it's shiny and brown.
Do you like pebbles too?
Or stones in black and blue?
STONES and THORNS
Are you bewildered?
Why do you walk on stones and thorns with bare feet?
Beloved, don’t you know lovers do not walk on feet?
They walk on love.
A lover’s journey is neither short nor long,
A lover’s journey is timeless…endless
A precious journey guided by a fervent heart
ROTMS
(Inspired by Master Rumi)
poem by Ray Lucero
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