deepundergroundpoetry.com
Birthday Stones
Brief, small
Birthed, bathed and bedded
Between earth and moon
We slip in, we root, nurse, fruit
Limbs grow, leaves fall
We grey, fail, leave again
Rising smoke
Fleeting thing red blood white bone
Taste the air wet cool
Paddle lift, glide, drip
Waking the still waters
Pause to know your passing
Oar resting on the surface trailing
Our heat beats out and in
Eyes closed chin to sun
Choose a flat grey stone
Wet and grit
One lone
Aim true, lean
Skip your stone
Birthed, bathed and bedded
Between earth and moon
We slip in, we root, nurse, fruit
Limbs grow, leaves fall
We grey, fail, leave again
Rising smoke
Fleeting thing red blood white bone
Taste the air wet cool
Paddle lift, glide, drip
Waking the still waters
Pause to know your passing
Oar resting on the surface trailing
Our heat beats out and in
Eyes closed chin to sun
Choose a flat grey stone
Wet and grit
One lone
Aim true, lean
Skip your stone
Published 18th Dec 2021
| Edited 19th Dec 2022
Author's Note
getting old feels like falling through a space, a space between two turning things that are also falling and tumbling, getting lost while going home, remembering something like a glass remembers water, knowing nothing but the movement
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2
reading list entries 1
comments 0
reads 463
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
