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:

Blue Sky

Blue sky And clouds float by Looking up high I can see why They do fly Blue sky Mavis
View Poem »

Decay and Madness

From the depths And gazing into the distance Strength not normality Fallen to the post. Long in sadness Decaying and madness. Kim
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 »

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 »

Covehithe

Driftwood trunks Many moons ago Float ashore Sally
View Poem »

Who Is Saving The World?

The recycler, bicycler, bio-masser and solar paneller, the sustainable developer, the charity worker, the medics (sans frontieres?), fundraisers and carers, givers and listeners, growers of organics, designers of biodegradables. Genetic engineers? Surgeons and researchers, forgivers and forgetters, Billy the bug hunter, Immy the mathematician, Troy the paratriathelete, Wendy the wigwam maker. The ones who go last, the ones who smile, the ones who don’t want to argue about it, the ones who give up their seat, the ones who calm a storm, the ones who cook up a feast, the ones who sing praises, the ones who shine, Auntie Gwen and Malala…… ….and I drink water from a glass bottle. Sue Foster Image by Fernando via Unsplash .
View Poem »

The Pandemic

Unprecedented Unprecedented Unprecedented Present distress repeated, repeated recent disease breathed present unprecedented, sent in coughs. Cough, cough, cough. This disease sent on the air. Cough, cough, cough. Unprecedented present breathed in unprecedented disease breathed out unprecedented hand-washing unprecedented deaths dent the present. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe out. Dented breathing. Cough. Present deaths unprecedented. Enough. Too many deaths. Too many people. Too many families. This time Covid19. Another SARS disease present. Unprecedented but not unexpected 2020. Sue  Foster
View Poem »

Leper Chapel - Mosaics of Time

Mudstone mosaics and jumbled fractures - an uneven puzzle waiting; holy stone with leper marks, dotted and spotted black. Ever expanding lichen rings with double oil-spotted rainbow; angular rust-like stains Testing the presence of time. Clenched into cracks Of weathered rocks and broken messages; scarlet snapdragons trailing their cardinal stems. Damp buttress of moss clinging, Festooning the flint; ink spots, stone measles, proud thistle commanding the base. Random yet structured, closely inter-twined cobwebs Fastened carefully to parched and pocketed stones. Chaotic yet ordered toad-like grotesque within; marking essences of devoted and hidden faces. Picture flints grinning their caramel coffee smiles amongst Anglian crags, embracing their forgotten cousins. Stephanie To see the inspiration for this poem and hear it being narrated at the remains of the Leper Chapel, Dunwich, visit this page from our Chronicles of Greyfriars project website.
View Poem »

Ready to Spring

Like the gnarly springtime bulbs, dormant in the ground Your demons crouch under the skin, waiting to be found Waiting for their moment, to break through and be seen The pale face of snowdrops, in a vibrant sea of green Emmalene Taylor
View Poem »

Insect Playground

Hidey holes and pockets of flowers Silhouetted with a lonely crow, watchful of artists. A jumble sale of geology, thoughts, and passers by; A granulated sugar platform Of sandy grains and apple pie. Abbey Tales Group  Poem
View Poem »