Skip to main content

Stones of Old



Tell me your song oh stones of old
of the summers that warmed you and the strike of the cold
the voices of song absorbed in your heart
the anger and fear that tore you apart.

Speak to me of church bells and whispered dreams
the rough hands that gathered your broken seams
the waterways that carried your bones of lime
the soft crunch of bread and red rivers of wine.

Who did you cradle in your shadowed arch
as the songbirds heralded the soldiers march
as battles raged in the skies ahead
and you sheltered your spiders in a stony bed?

Is the wear on your shoulders the marks of the wild
or the scrape of a heel from a venturing child?
Discarded windows frame the dance of time
Oh tell me your stories great stalwarts of lime. 

 

Emmalene

 

Poetry Theme(s):

Currently Popular Poems:

Becalmed

I can no longer dot the i’s, nor cross the t’s. A pale haze, like Sunday afternoons, pleasant after a glass of wine too many, drifts across my day. I am at peace. I find myself disposed to acquiesce, content to live life at this gentle pace, content, it seems, with how life’s focus, now diminished, takes on the softened blur of evening light. Something sharp is lost. But the time for mourning it is done. The wind that swelled the sails has dropped, the tide recedes, the fierceness of the sun is quenched, leaving the sunshine’s golden glow that speaks the lateness of the hour. A taste of salt upon my lips - no call for worry or regrets - a bitter-sweet recall of what has gone. Julia Duke
View Poem »

Change

As  I stand with my feet in the ocean, and look at the setting sun, I think of how many me's, have stood in how many seas, but always stared at the same one. A snapshot of scenes in the movie of me, at various times of my being. A new version of me every single time; the same star I'm always seeing. It fills me with curious wonder, for the places that I may go; And the life that has yet to happen, and the things I have yet to know. Jess
View Poem »

Pandemic

Piecing together all our hopes and dreams, joining the broken fragments of our lives, managing the pain of another loss, full of joy when finally together, society’s fabric hangs by a thread. Julia Duke
View Poem »

North Transept

A stone milk tray Eyes of the past Watchful of progress. Golden ochre-pink Periwinkle scar A ship’s ballast from afar. Separate yet together United they stand Teapot and hen. Sharp, knobbly eyes Faces forgotten by wind Trampled and thinned.   by Stephanie
View Poem »

Seasons

To each a season: the planets Turn in Kepler's gyre, Swelling the mental weather, Fattening the wealth Of light and dark I weekly Feel in my own solitude. To each a season: a death Of what was hard and cold: A burst of sun to break My hoary sadness And gild the shining tower I build around your smile. But let's not talk of sun But speak instead of life And all the things I feel When living through mortality. The lovely times We feast and meagre times We only feed on memories. I have my seasons. Tim Holt-Wilson
View Poem »

A Way of Life

It’s become a way of life this summer, the canvas bag slung over my shoulder hoping not to need it hoping the sky will stay blue long enough to get a walk by the sea. It’s become a way of life this summer, wearing my green jeans, wearing a matching sweatshirt to keep the wind out, wearing green wherever possible to match my green cagoule in case I need it. It’s becoming a way of life, it’s true, this life of uncertainty which nags at the back of your mind and keeps you constantly looking up the weather on your phone. It’s a way of life, this anxiety which sends me scurrying for help when it mushrooms out of control in the middle of the night. Julia
View Poem »

River Stour Haiku

Wandering the bend, Bending around the wonder Meander reveals. Freda
View Poem »

From one frog to humans, or 'Go dig a Pond'

Burnt summer, Another hot summer Without a drop of water I wait It’s only June. With ochre hives And forgotten tones Of emerald green Parched fields and thorny hegderows. A dead speckled wood I’d rather eat fresh Is on the menu today, tomorrow unknown. A bleak summer ahead, Our long forgotten cousins Creep steathily unseen Waiting silently for clouds. A buttercup-yellow Marsh marigold forest Croaked from Floating reeds and choked crispy chickweed. Andrew Toms
View Poem »

Hidden Depths of Strength

A hint of sadness Always in my eyes Reflecting the madness And chaos of the past. I long for normality To be rescued from the depths Don't step too close Always in my eyes. Keep others at a distance Hidden strength Always in my eyes Uncertainty and sadness. Rebecca
View Poem »

Patient Waiting

Waiting patiently, Post-covid chest In West Suffolk hospital every two months. Physical barriers To recovery I face, with mental and financial scars cutting past my breath. I seek reassurance From other patients, Stangers to me- To lessen my symptoms We laugh and recall. Conspiracy theorists I say, should live with my cough And pain to re-judge, I wish it was. Bryony
View Poem »