days of stone

Tag: poem

  • Ghost Print

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

  • What Stays

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    The house didn’t fallwhen they left.The kettle still boils,the dog still waitsfor your voice in the morning. Time to forgetthe way you bent to fitwhat was never built for you. The sky hasn’t stoppedits slow turning.Magpies still sing.You breathe.Something holds. This isn’t the end.It never is.The right onewon’t ask you to shrink.What stayswill staywithout being…

  • Sin Town

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    It only exists when the sun goes downand the signs flicker to life—neon lips, dice rolling, Girls Girls Girlsgyrate in pulsing pink. The gutters gleam,slick with rain or something worse.The footpaths hum with heels and hunger. No one’s from here.Everyone’s just passing through—folded cash, fake names and bad habits.Cabbies don’t question—they know where to stop,won’t…

  • Obon Rain

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    for the ones who still wait The rain begins slowly—drummingon stone markers. I light a stick of incense.It curlslike something trying to stay. Even the cicadashave fallen quiet. A child’s sandaldriftsdown the flooded path. Ryan Stone

  • Kintsugi Morning

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    The bowl is still cracked,but gold glintsin early light. Steam from the tearises—a soft unravelling. Outside, the plum treeshakes offa single blossom. You are nowhere,and stillI pour two cups. Ryan Stone

  • They Meet There, Still They Meet

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    They meet there, still they meet,Where sand gives way beneath bare feet;No words are said, no vows are sworn,Just lips that know what silence mourns—They meet there, still they meet. The moon bends low to kiss the wheat,The stars hang close, the air smells sweet;He brushes leaves from tangled hair,She laughs as if no one’s…

  • Daisy

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    It had no rightto be growing there—in the cracked seambetween the house and the path,where runoff pooledand the dog pissedand nothing green should last. But there it was.One daisy.Tilting toward the heatlike it believedin something. Not bloomingexactly,just holding on,a yellow eyein a worldthat never looked back. I could’ve crushed iton the way to the bin.I…

  • Choke Town

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    The butcher’s sign still swings,though the shop’s been guttedsince Gaz ran a hose from the tailpipeand left the lights on. The school gate’s rusted open.Wind sifts chalk dustthrough cracked windowswhere names once lined the rolllike prayers in hell. Down at the silo,kids mainline in the shadowof grain that never came.One girl carved a starinto her…

  • After the Rain

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    some daysgetting up is enough.feet on cold tiles,kettle humming,a clean shirt pulled over last night’s ache. you don’t have to shine.not today.just breathe.just be. let the storm pass without explanation.let the sky rinse itself clean. there’s no deadlinefor feeling okay,only weather,moving through. and when it does,when the clouds crack openand a thread of light finds…

  • Still Here

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    Some daysthe light forgets your name.Doesn’t meanit’s gone for good. Even the suntakes timeto climb the sky. You don’t have to rise fast.You don’t have to smile.You just have to stay,breathe once,then once again. There’s no prizefor pretending.But there is gracein holding onwhen everything says let go. You are still here.And that means:you are strong…