Stuff Cops Know

Lunacy lives in the full face of the moon,
blood has infinite shades of red. The perfect crime
doesn’t exist. Every contact leaves a trace.

When there’s nothing to gain, people can still be evil.
When there’s everything to lose, people may surprise you.
Occasionally there is honour among thieves.

There are multiple truths, perspective is all. Sometimes
there are only questions. Everyone has a price,
I’m not talking money. Life is unfair. Trust me

means don’t. The sins of one moment can reverberate
for a lifetime. Love is the very best
and worst of things.

Ryan Stone

For dVerse prompt, May 11, 2017 – a List Poem.

April 27, 2024 28

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!

April 27, 2024 22

The Walk

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 end of the trail
I study my grazes—jagged
and bloody. He tells me
he’s leaving my mum.

On the walk home
I gaze at the gum trees
and fragmented clouds, thinking
they should look different somehow.

Ryan Stone

first published at Poetry Nook, 1st place Week 185

April 26, 2024 42

Like Grass

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

April 25, 2024 33

Hope

so dark
each winter night,
then dawn

Ryan Stone

April 24, 2024 5

Divorce

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

Ryan Stone

April 23, 2024 11

Reflection

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

Ryan Stone

April 23, 2024 11

Blue Sky

spring clothesline—
purple penguins dancing
on a breeze

Ryan Stone

April 22, 2024 24

Back Road

In this threadbare landscape
where patchwork fields
stretch to the horizon,
a red barn slouches—
weathered and worn
through 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, button
eyes gaze sightless. Last sentinel
against encroaching shadows.

And still, there is beauty here.
Where barn, field, and scarecrow
converge, where eagles cry
 on the wind—a tale of courage
and heartbreak. A tale
of life’s simple grace.

Ryan Stone