Warm sand
between our toes,
your hand
belongs
in mine, until
our songs
are sung;
our instruments
unstrung.
Ryan Stone
Written for National Poetry Month 2016 @ The Music In It – Aging.
Drought Break
The first splash,
a drum crash
on hardpan.
Tin roof hiss,
a slow kiss
that grows
into rushing
percussion.
New voices rise,
warbles and sighs,
from beneath the shelter
of tree ferns–
a chorus begins,
magpie trills
and woodwind,
as sound
to the outback
returns.
Ryan Stone
Another bite at dVerse quadrille #33 – Sound Off!
Red Rocks
Riffs of liquid chrome
Howling from a neon amp
Set the night on fire
Ryan Stone
days of stone 