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Meeting, weight for weight, the door to who I am

Three small stones
Play for me their simple beauty
Pull my heart to silenced wonder
Mute awareness playing like Isadora Duncan in the rain
One placed on my forehead
The gentle weight of it a soothing dream
One pressed to my lips
For memories and love
And one to rest at breast bone
Vulnerable
Delicate
The heavier
Mimicking the warm red beating centre of my chest
A silent sculpture of nature
Smoothed by years of weathered patience
Meeting, weight for weight, the door to who I am
These will be my resting stones
I practice in my mind
When I am cold, not warm
Place these upon me thus
Rounded discs of simple comfort
— Cloudthings, Jun 05, 2009

About This Poem

About the Author

Region, Country: Australia, regional Victoria, AUS

Favorite Poets: So many... Rumi, Spike Milligan, Keats. Many of the Neopoet clan, past & present. A myriad of song writers, Dylan, Jackson Browne, Lior, & I must add the poetic influence of painters, sculptors & creators across the world... Life really, especially the sky.

More from this author

Critiques

Cloudthings

Cloudthings

17 years ago

dreamy woven images pull agelss peace & pleasure from us all & l

Ah, Blanka, from you, the sweet new voice of "Neopoet", whose dreamy woven images pull agelss peace & pleasure from us all & lay us naked to your gentle dance of words, this is a treasure in return. Thank you for your lovely words, so glad this pleases you, it was one of those simple outpourings that tumble from nowhere into being, I love them like that... & your words of response are a delight. Love ~ Anni ~~~ "The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself" Henry Miller
O

orgami

17 years ago

slower

no coffee yet lost in commenting smooth slow morning here i feel more mature you of course write so well this one changing yet again in styles elusive and yet if still the butterfly will land when I was younger a love of mine who was another we all were at the beach cottage the stones stretching to the green limestone tinctured lake Great Lake Ontario so cold the wind despite the sun hot on our skin we nestled on the smooth beach stones worn since glacial times flat and ovid the sand blonde She tall pale and auburn haired about twelve inches above the beach the air was warm like a little zone away from the wind we nestled all of us near like this the heat seeping into our bodies the young wants listless in the wind like rain damp memories on fresh pages exposed such was the impact then to now you have brought it back with a singular moment the power of words thank you
Cloudthings

Cloudthings

17 years ago

it is such a pleasure, to taste these images of another life

Oh, such lovely words echo back from you dear O', a joy always... glad to have brought these memories to your present & thank you for sharing their lovely shape for me to savour, it is such a pleasure, to taste these images of another life unknown... the writer's gift, the reader's joy huh! In turn you evoke the gorgeous Dylan epic the imagery he so strongly paint with emotion flowing abundantly in the song which I can't now recall but in it he references his own song "Sad eyed lady of the lowlands", where she lay on the beach, with chldren & warmth & he sat writing that song for her. I shall look it up it is potent & intoxicating (the way we love it, my friend!) ~ Love to you, my Canadian brother, Eagle resting wisely, & observing always. Anni ~~~ "The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself" Henry Miller
B

bjp

17 years ago

Dear Anni,

This is a long breath. A quiet. A neat scotch on a warm day. You, Willendorf's woman in the earliest of churches, finding the door to you. Brian
Cloudthings

Cloudthings

17 years ago

so light the swirling eddies draw them up in curls of warmth

What a lovely comment, with words of whisp-wind tenderness & so light the swirling eddies draw them up in curls of warmth & breath. Thank you, it felt like that to write as well, it's so lovely when they just flow from you like that, don't you think?~ Anni ~~~ "The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself" Henry Miller
A

Arrow

17 years ago

For me, the glory of this poem

is the end, which leaves me with the image of stones in a cold creek bed, markers of something that really can't be marked. I would have taken out a few lines (12-13 b/c the analogy is clear and 18: practice what? being dead?) but I see Blanka likes lines 12-13 so, what can be done? You can't please everyone. Simple, emotive. This is your strength - to move people without a single overblown word.
Cloudthings

Cloudthings

17 years ago

Arrow, I love it when something I write brings you to my page, y

Arrow, I love it when something I write brings you to my page, your feedback is always so illuminating & a pleasure to read, it makes me think about my work in broader terms (Brians do too) I love that so much. Yes, the thought that came to me was to gently practice being dead, as gross as that may sound, at the time of writing it was beyond judgement, sentiment, it was clean of emotion, just peace & being. I see your point about those line, & I tried it, but I am pleased to be a little base & blatent at times, though I Sooooo much love your works that are stripped of any unneccessary verbiage, clean, pure to the heart, "Arrows", wonderful shafts of light... perhaps if I could practice such culling I could produce such work as clean as yours Arrow, you inspire me so much. Thank you for your lovely words to me here, I cherish them. ~ Anni ~~~ "The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself" Henry Miller
faerybeki

faerybeki

17 years ago

Anni, such power in stones,

Anni, such power in stones, I love your poem, can see you lying with these stones placed on you, healing and balancing you :) Hope you are a little less weary hon and are enjoying your weekend with the otters? Love you, b xxx
Cloudthings

Cloudthings

17 years ago

Oh the rocks & lichen, little ferns & wild orchids & other sweet

Holla lovely girl, yes, stones, like stonehenge or any other... yesterday we tramped to a gorgeous place famous in Australia for rock climbing & abseilling (Mt. Arapiles)... Oh the rocks & lichen, little ferns & wild orchids & other sweet wee plants peeping up from small crevices or layers of soil that managed to stay in place to give them nourishment... spent ages taking close up photographs, & vistas too, cloudscapes with brooding winter sky which threatened rain that never burst (while we were there after all). The otters are divine.... My Bella, making clay dragonflies for me... life is so good! Much love & goodness to you Hasta luego~ Anni ~~~ "The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself" Henry Miller
Geezer

Geezer

16 years 12 months ago

Picturing

Picturing stones,with the magical healing properties of Mother Earth. I have dozens of small white stones,scattered through my house and belongings. When I go somewhere there are these type of stones,I make a small circle of seven stones and leave them for the sprites and faries.[I was told long ago that if you do this,they will grant you the power to see and feel things not apparent to others]. You must have your own ritual for that. Because you clearly see more than a lot of other people do. Great work!Gee.
Cloudthings

Cloudthings

16 years 12 months ago

You have given me a gift with this little tale, a real joy, than

That sounds so lovely Gee, what a beautiful little ritual. Hah, I love this little bit of information, just delightful. Ah dear one I'm afraid you endow me with wisdom that I dearly aspire to, but cannot say I possess. Would be lovely to be clearer sighted, I do endeavor to head in that direction, but Have, I think a long way to go... Perhaps the closer we get to such aspirations, the further away we realise we really are. Always a treat to see you at my page my friend, I am scrambling for time here on Neo & preparing for that to get still more rare, sigh... Life moves & moves, the real thing is intruding, it's not all bad, I must juggle & balance, though I fear I must fight against my Neo obsession (I'd rather be here than working in any case!... Bu in truth I must do what works in real terms, & working has it wonders & pleasures & rewards... I just love my lovely Neo community. Hope you are well & leaving lovely white stone circles about for clearer sight... I shall think of you always now when I see white stones... count seven & smile as I arrange them, just for you my friend, then you can see my country & these wild places that I love. You have given me a gift with this little tale, a real joy, thank you. xxx~ Anni ~~~ "I feel no need for any other faith than my faith in the kindness of human beings. I am so absorbed in the wonder of earth and the life upon it that I cannot think of heaven and angels." Pearl S. Buck:
P

pint_a_stoli

16 years 12 months ago

I have read most of your

I have read most of your work here and I have on many occassions pressed my fingers to this keyboard to find adequate words to express my impression of these profound sensations that you have so effortly cast into words. It is clear to me that your hand is bound to the quill and perhaps your ink-well is never but half full. I humbly confess however, that despite my genuine respect for what you have created, and despite my perception of your apparant endearment for beauty and life, this poem, perhaps, was the only one I truely seem to have understood. With each read of it, I have come closer to who you are and how your untamed soul is always reaching for a higher peak....a higher meaning. I do wish I had the fortitude to unravel the puzzles you have so cleverly entwined in your other poems...we will have to solve these over a latte one evening. I have messaged you once before under a different ID. I helplessly keep finding myself looking upon the world of cloudthings. sincerly PINT
Cloudthings

Cloudthings

16 years 12 months ago

Thank you this is valuable feedback & you write with such a love

Well, I feel honoured by your aparent respect & sorry that you have found my writing hard for you to understand. I would have to be guessing what that ID is so you wouls have to let me know, but I am happy to explain things to a point (I admit I like a little mystery in some of my writing). A latte is fine but distance may be aproblen, I shall have to go look at your profile now to see how far, but a shared Latte & chat can be worthwhile if that is what works for you, you can PM me if you want to set that up. It is important to get such feedback, which is why this site is such a boon. We can never know how our work reaches others, & ultimately if we want it to do so, it is critical we refine our work to do so with some ease. I think there is almost always an element of the cryptic or hidden meanings in writing for many if not most writers, I take great pleasure in knowing there may be a myriad of interpretations & it is indeed like a puzzle (that is the centre of pleasure for me perhaps), it is often these works that engage me the most, full of evocative imagery & stirred emotion that touch on our own expressions & experiences, or dreams & longings (I admit I am less able to digest angry or blameful works particularly recently for some reason, not sure why, but that's just my own sensitivity & I am in no way suggesting others should avoid it). I may take a few days to respond for a while, but I will be back. Thank you this is valuable feedback & you write with such a lovely rich vocabulary of gentle respect, it is a soothing lovely read. Cheers ~ Anni ~~~ "I feel no need for any other faith than my faith in the kindness of human beings. I am so absorbed in the wonder of earth and the life upon it that I cannot think of heaven and angels." Pearl S. Buck: