Little Stone

Sometimes the power and history locked within a single stone can be so thought provoking Anna. I was going to make a small quip about whether you could make it skip to your tune but to be honest I just loved this poem and its seriousness. Keith

I enjoyed this poem evry much- theme and also the seriousness of it as well. Great read and great job! LadyTheresa

You are someone who loves stones too. I wrote a poem about stones:- "Stone's View" Ann harvey. The stone regarded a bone one day And said to itself, I wonder What it would be like to be a bone And inhabit a body like those I see All walking and walking and walking on me. The bone is more brittle and I am so strong So why change a state of fine boldness For weaker things, I'll stay as I am And opt for the colours of dullness At least in the mind of man Grey blue they think me but they are wrong I have often so many bright colours, and strong Occasionally shining like diamonds and pearls As the ore in my body has been heated in lava And adorns fair maidens, those beautiful girls I lie there and think in a blink of a century What one might call two thousand years Still I am here when the bone is a memory Eaten by birds or time under earth So that state's unenviable for my new birth It happens sometimes that I'm used as a weapon, Or thrown across water for fun, then I'm spun Like a top and have fun a lot dancing on water To sink under once more and end up to pattern The lakes soft floor among weeds and leaves Or down the waterfall crashing and loud Tossed in the air with the water-drop's cloud I can even be honoured and hold the tent down When the wind comes a blasting through mountain and town Then I'm proud of my weight and my crown of green moss 'Tis I who wear it like the King of all us When I build a fine church or the village hall For all the noisy children to recite in the fall To their parents who know that I did it all Inspired them to write of anything at all The stone took a deep breath and turned on its side To reveal a fossil of crustaceans with pride I am the medium that can take the care Not to squander the beautiful things that inspire And show you that stones have a meaning so rare. So I agree they are wonderful in so many ways I enjoyed your poem you put it more succinctly thaan I do! L Ann

Anna, my grandfather picked up stones and while he walked in the woods and across the meadows, he polished the stone in hand, or whenever he found himself waiting, he took it out and polished it until it became so smooth and beautiful for him. Sadly I never met him. You should see the window sills, the tables in my house in the mountains, there are more stones, bones and twisted tree branches, dried flowers and feathers, and shells and......than there is furniture or other precious objects. When I was 60 years, I asked a small number of my best friends to a party and said do not bring any presents please, just a stone and a poem. I got many interesting things, the smallest and lost lovely was in a matchbox, white, with the short poem by a Norwegian about a stone written in fine writing and inside the little nature-perfect shaped stone, grey and beautiful. The other that was special was the stone with a hole in it that the little boy, at my party in his National costume, gave me, as the centre piece of a heavy necklace that he had made himself. So now you know my age and I introduced myself for a new job around that time as an old lady that can stand on her head, the others had long stories about themselves but mine would have been tooooo long. To a lover of stones from Ann