Tag Archives: stones

Wayward Thrones and Pocket Stories 

Weary of glass (ceilings, slippers, houses) ,we turn ourselves to stone instead, our bare feet mud-luscious in their riverbeds.  We pebble stories, toss them in.  The moon’s a diamond we are tired of rolling uphill,so we cut her into slices and shine.  It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse, and I’m hosting. … Continue reading

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bee moon

  magnetic poetry

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Oh, the marvelous beat of skipping feet

.. Won’t you hopscotch walk with me? We have a moon to catch, and she is waiting for us to 1-2-3 our fumbled feet right up into her gold-spilled shine. Sit here, curb -sighed, and wander-wild. We’ll hold our breaths … Continue reading

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Riposte for a Curious Sky

.. What is it we have learned from pebbled songs? Simply this: We are word warriors forming sacred battle lines just in (case)time for our brokenness to find a place to feel (g)rounde(d);lay its small unquiet secrets. We have a … Continue reading

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the quiet keening of smallish stones

.. we throw them in as wishes, just to see some change in the surface of things, just to watch the ripples rise. we revel in their displacement, the way they sway the river’s path, make bur -bled song of … Continue reading

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Writing in Dust

She stood {still}, silenced by their judgment, His grace. They dropped their stones because he bade them cast the first.   . twiglet #63. Inspired by the story of a woman from John 8 of the Bible.   

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Smashed Word Broken

let all go – the big small middling tall bigger really the biggest and all things – let all go dear so comes love – E.E. Cummings   .. I am shedding my old skins again. Onion to apple, just … Continue reading

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Throwing Stones at Wayward Thrones

.. We are the princesses of ice and fire and fog and fluff. We have had enough of your glass …………(ceilings) slippers and your velvet chairs not meant for sitting and your golden stair demands of our locks. Your frocks … Continue reading

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This Season of Crimped Grass

.. We breathe the cold, snapped against silence; the blue seeps into our bones. We raise our limbs to a cracked-open sky, the clouds like overlapping stones.   .. wordled.    

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Artichokes and Amaranth

(Seed shopping on a Sunday)   .. There’s an entire alphabet here to be planted, a feast for our palates and our eyes and our ears: ginseng, cinnamon, cloves, currant, apricots, zucchini. We head home with brandywine, plums, glacier, stone. … Continue reading

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