days of stone

Tag: poetry

  • This house

    This house

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    never recovered from the storms of ’93 when lightning stroked shingles, shorted out circuits, left one side wind blown and sagging. Tufts of moss sprout from the bowed memory of taut boards. A plague of crickets lurk beneath stairs, creaking their arthritic chatter. From a threadbare recliner in a ramshackle room I gaze over fields…

  • Drought Break

    Drought Break

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    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…

  • The Walk

    The Walk

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    I wake a full hour early for the rare gift of a walk in the woods with my father. He is a silent giant among misty ghost gums. I tell him, Watch! See how fast I can run. He doesn’t yell when I trip and fall, but lifts me with unfamiliar, calloused hands. At the…

  • Like Grass

    Like Grass

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    I’ll bend, you know. Each time you kick or stomp me underfoot. Though sustenance is rare as winter sun, I’ll thrive, you know and grow to cover every corner of the meadow where you lie. I’ll rise, you know. Rise and rise– I’ll rise. Ryan Stone

  • Stand To

    Stand To

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    A silent witness crests the hill where bloody rain once fell. The sob and clubbing fractured now – hearts beat on distant shores where brothers wait with shaking hands to charge into the dawn. Across the Sea of Helle they came, from many different ports, to lay down cold on foreign stone, enlisted on some…

  • Hope

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    so dark each winter night, then dawn Ryan Stone

  • Divorce

    Divorce

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in , ,

    From this bridge of sighs They watch the chasm sunder Here, where dreaming ends Ryan Stone

  • Reflection

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in , ,

    Above the still lake A smoke and pepper patchwork Birds entering clouds Ryan Stone

  • Blue Sky

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in ,

    spring clothesline— purple penguins dancing on a breeze Ryan Stone

  • Back Road

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    In this threadbare landscapewhere patchwork fieldsstretch to the horizon,a red barn slouches—weathered and wornthrough all the long days,paint flaking under the sun. Surrounded by wheat husks,each stalk croaking secrets,forgotten, a scarecrow slumps—guardian of a dead land.Tattered garments hang limp, buttoneyes gaze sightless. Last sentinelagainst encroaching shadows. And still, there is beauty here.Where barn, field, and…