days of stone

Tag: youth

  • The Sculptor

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    On Sunset Strip the lights have dimmed And silent now their siren’s call. A fading starlet’s eyes are brimmed With tears–one more forgotten thrall Who keeps her locks of platinum trimmed, Awaits her call to glory, Lays bare her soul to cheat decay And rewrite her life’s story. He sculpts her in immortal clay, In…

  • Irish Fire

    Irish Fire

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    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    My grandmother called it Irish fire, said it raged through my father hotter than Beli Mawr’s bum. She was long dead when it finally flared fiercer than he could contain. The embers of his eyes scorched childhood’s last leaves to ash, left them smoldering. Ryan Stone

  • Saudade

    Saudade

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

  • Mother’s Hands

    Mother’s Hands

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    Advertisement for Myers Gloves, by Margaret Watkins (Canada), 1920s. Mother’s Hands Strong enough to lift me each time I couldn’t rise. Soft as cotton wool, washing dirt from scrapes and tears from eyes. Firm enough to model clay and boys, to bowls and men, yet fine when stroking ivory keys– Für Elise and Clair de…

  • The Walk

    The Walk

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    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…

  • No One

    No One

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    dawn pauses, explodes in a flash of carmine fire flaring in the east flaring in the east, Icarus ascends his throne – blazing flight of one blazing flight of one, Labyrinth behind, no one makes it out alone – Ryan Stone Written for National Poetry Month 2016 @ The Music In It – Being Alone

  • Teacher

    Teacher

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    A wail of sirens makes her pale with fear, returns her to the year she stole a cub from his foxhole. Ryan Stone

  • Ingénue

    Ingénue

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    Ingénue Raindrops – steel drums, belting roof tops. Loud beats unheard beneath white sheets where two hearts shed one last taboo. Ryan Stone

  • The Wind Whispers, The Wind Sighs

    The Wind Whispers, The Wind Sighs

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    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    – 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,…

  • Leaving Violet Town

    Leaving Violet Town

    —

    by

    Ryan Stone
    in

    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…