Author: Ryan Stone

Ryan Stone writes after midnight. His short fiction and poetry have appeared in publications including Eunoia Review, The Drabble, Algebra of Owls and Silver Birch Press and won prizes in a number of competitions at venues including Grindstone, Writer Advice, Goodreads, Writers’ Forum Magazine and Poetry Nook. He lives in Melbourne, Australia.

The Wind Whispers, The Wind Sighs

– after Longfellow

The wind whispers, the wind sighs,
the dawn light brightens, a magpie cries;
amongst the gum trees tall and green
a girl becomes a faerie queen.
And the wind whispers, the wind sighs.

Morning settles beneath silk skies,
her reign flits by like dragonflies;
deep shadows dress the naked hill
in dusk, as faerie wings fall still.
And the wind whispers, the wind sighs.

Night throws a cloak; a barn owl cries,
another answers, stars blink like eyes.
The queen is gone, won’t come again;
these woods forever will remain.
And the wind whispers, the wind sighs.

– Ryan Stone

first published at Poetry Nook, May 2020

34

Leaving Violet Town

The boy sits alone
while the carriage fills
around him. It’s a V-line,
a long haul, thundering
into morning.

Barely legible,
a chipped sign fades
and Violet Town falls away.

He retreats to a paperback
kingdom, while oblivious
wheels devour miles.
Sometimes his eyes rise
to watch the landscape
grind from here to there.

Halogen holds the night
at bay as a voiceover calls
passengers awake.

At journey’s end,
crisp air whispers
possibility. Behind him,
doors hiss shut. Ahead,
a turnstile beckons.

Ryan Stone

First published in Writers’ Forum Magazine issue 159, December 2014

Click here for audio

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44

Deek’s Golden Day

A chill October morning. Grey
Melbourne, 1982. Usually, we students
would be outside at recess
running ourselves warm. Not today.

In the close schoolroom we huddle
around a tiny tv screen,
watching the Commonwealth Games
in Brisbane. Watching, in colour

as marathon star, Rob ‘Deek’
De Castella, battles two rivals
in third place through Fortitude Valley.
Close to the 42km finish line

Deek lengthens stride, sails
past The Regatta Hotel
into history. In first place he flies
down Coronation Drive,

and the roar in our classroom
echoes around the nation.
Lessons are cancelled, our bland
teacher whoops, and we charge

out into the brightening playground.
Each of us soars that day—arms pumping, coiled spring legs. We race through the yard
to imagined cheers and screams.

Ryan Stone

5

Little Things

In the few spare minutes
between kids’ basketball games
I find myself
in the produce aisle
floating on a rainbow
of yellow, red, orange, green.
Vibrant and bursting
with perfection, promising
the flavors of earth and sky
and stream.

I pause—
unexpectedly
overwhelmed,
grateful to live in a time
where fifteen stolen minutes
allows me to gather apples and grapes,
squash, broccolini, avocado and rhubarb.
Grown by strangers, harvested
by other hands—a bounty
for my family to share.

Ryan Stone

9

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