Best Pebbly Poems
Dredged from the depths of a shaken Sennen seashell
she hears once more his voice, low, sonorous tones, sees the bones
of her past laid out, splayed out, another story
playing out, can feel it in her bones,
his voice burrowing in, deep beneath skin,
a cold blade digging in, the tide coming in,
shrouds of sea mist closing in, the veil blowing thin,
membranes of memory breaking...She sees anew the drowning seas,
sees for the first time his strangling hands,
pebbly skulls, seaweed ropes, skeletal fingers of coral
forcing bone-white wrecking lights into her cove...
Bone-bleached semen strands, Sennen's strand stretching
soiled sand before her like life or fate, grains like pulverised bones.
His dark-dune lurking, water-window watching,
waiting for riptides; a ripping of fabric, ripping of hymen,
sea-hymns now silent on salt-sheened lips
plump-pouty with youth. It's sordid, uncouth,
the salt sprinkle of sea-sweat sheening his skin,
the breath and the fingers quickening,
the coral's rough rigidity piercing, ejaculation of sea foam...
Buried deeper than bones, the sudden rush of memory waves
rattling bones of the past, shaking Sennen seashells.
Gulls screaming into the guilty hush.
Secrets hidden by sea-silenced sand.
Categories:
pebbly, abuse,
Form:
Free verse
Una or Death, Life : 42, Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Una ou la mort, la vie : 42 by T. Wignesan
To love words is to love life itself
As early as when he could speak, he understood this
Each vowel took on the form of a fruit
And he a little peasant from his days at school
What he learned was how to savour their meanings
He recalls the taste of grey figs
Milk curds smelling sweet, the whirl
Of Latin words enveloped by pebbly voices
Poetry (as they used to say) that he recited
At the age of seven with catechistic fervour
His heart swollen with love ever since he started breathing
The rhythm of men even higher than the mountains.
* According to Anne-Sophie Constant, Una ou la mort, la vie (first book in Livre de l’homme et de la femme, just as the other two books in the trilogy : Duel and L’Autre, all in twelve lines), the poems are untitled, but numbered.
(Una ou la mort, la vie, O. C. t. II, p. 753)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Categories:
pebbly, poems, poets,
Form:
Didactic
The serpentine and ageless liquid
mercurial possessed snake
eternally swallowed
since the beginning of time
one unquenchable thirst to gorge and slake
slurping up an icy cold mountainous pebbly shake
yet fresh as an irish spring
using thy tongue o gaelic spake
then tumbling down into the cavernous abyss
subsequently carving
a deep criss cross patchwork
across the rock hard rugged topography
like the handiwork of some invincible force
commandeering a humungous rake
affixing legendary signature
quasi-indelible grooves
only for the near indomitable
chiseled masterpiece
to be erased, twisted then wrenched
by that natural landscape altering phenomena
identified as an earth quake
creating a fresh tabula rasa to begin anew
inviting waters from on high to carve
from the ebbing and flowing millennial currents
which eventually find a more direct course
beginning as trickling creek
swells from winter rains
and thence in summer while the sun doth bake
when flora blooms and fauna prance
the firmament then abandons
bent elbow oxbow lake
as a former bend in the river.
frum - thhis hen pecked bantam
which spouse will never hush
and let me concentrate at some endeavor
but please DO NOT consider me a lush
nor believe this mainline/ lower merion resident lives plush
for his values quite out of sync with majority in a rush
to chase the ole might buck
if quiet, you can hear the whoosh!
Categories:
pebbly, appreciation, beauty, creation, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
A little quiet hill
Sitting very still
With a modest pride
Slanted curve aside.
Every tree's tappered stems
Adorned starry diadems
Glistening dew of morn
The dawn of a day born.
Sweetly they slept
While then there wept
The fallen leaves
To which silence heaves.
The crystal air to skim
The rough edges within
And the leafy shelves
Refresh themselves.
Round the rocky bends
The soft morning winds
Through blades of grass
And time's shadow to pass
Against endless streams
Of sunny beams.
How they wrestle
And ever nestled
O're the pebbly sand
Across the majestic land
Categories:
pebbly, beauty, day, good morning,
Form:
Rhyme
My hurt heart is soothed beneath
dewy, emerald
canopies
where pebbly pathways wind
around a shaded fountain
of peace.
A lotus pond meditates here.
A busy birdbath frolics
there.
Ah, what soft, serene solace,
light as a feather my
soul is!
Categories:
pebbly, hope
Form:
Tail-rhyme
The sun was shining brightly
Shall we go to the lake said Mam
I was washed and dressed
Placed in my buggy , all spick and span
Mam dressed my sister
Then herself she had cleansed
Ready for the off now
She looked at me and screamed
Just look at the state of you
You cant go out like that
I had only sat in my buggy
What on earth was the fuss about
My lovely white brocade dress
Was filthy, how was that
I was just sitting in my buggy
Was the pesky dogs fault
Been out in the garden
Digging holes just for the fun
Came in and saw me sitting there
Onto my buggy he had come
My dressed was pulled off me
Face and hands washed once more
Looking clean and happy again
Off to the lakes pebbly shore
This keeps getting retold whenever grubby children are mentioned.
"She could get dirty just sitting in a buggy"
I was aged about 18 months - 2 years
Penned 23 August 2013
Categories:
pebbly, child, dog,
Form:
Rhyme
Dedicated to My Father with Endless Love
My child’s serious eyes targeted me as his prize.
I could see pondering and wondering forming words
for my small child’s mumbling.
“Mommy, Daddy says you’re short”, he spoke.
“People come in all sizes.”
“Will I come in short?” he questioned.
“Would you care?”
“Don’t think so,” he shared.
“Good, since I’m only a short woman because I was born a
short man. When a young man, I despised being short. I
was a shy sort, wanting a growth spurt that never came.
One day, when alone and apart, I sat with my hurt on
isolated railroad tracks. Deep in day dreams, wiggling
my toes in pebbly dirt, I nearly missed the train’s loud
arrival which risked my survival. Suddenly upon me, the
train was deafening and looming, so my feet took to zooming.
I barely missed fatal harm, but that train did batter my left
arm. My elbow was pointed up towards my face, looking
angry and gangly. I don’t know why, I may never know, but
I kissed that torn elbow and instantly changed into a girl who
didn’t care to grow.”
“Did your Mommy buy you new clothes?”
Categories:
pebbly, fantasy, mother son, silly,
Form:
Free verse
A mindful mate of mine proceeds on the pebbly path
as an angel with a mission flies in the skies.
The childish fullness of his cheeks
manifests his mettle
and he is a carefree big cat
seeking the sweet joy of living his life.
As a detached observer
he has no temptation for the temporary things;
emotions, thoughts, people, events and sceneries.
He welcomes what comes on the way
as a cast aside cow with contentment
and becomes a fruitful tree
easily shedding his leaves in the fall.
In his hand he never holds an empty bowl :
he is filled to the brim by the Supreme Soul.
He has nothing to lose :
he doesn’t cling to anything.
His pure love frees him from dependency
and no bond destroys his loveful disposition.
He is the animating air expanding his circle
and all the cords of attachment have been cut.
Nothing ever belongs to him,
even the body he lives in is not his own.
He perceives the universe perfect
and comes with no complaints.
All the things he can’t control
have taught him to let go and be free.
Categories:
pebbly, motivation, senses, simile, spiritual,
Form:
Alliteration
TRIP TO DREAMLAND
A vacation trip to calm salient suburb overwhelmed me in childhood. We stayed in in Grand Mom’s house covering large rea with huge garden to face hills, to embrace forest and to look at dancing stream as dream. I was enchanted with peerless pleasure finding tremendous treasures of Nature so close under wide sky.
I was charmed listening to giggles of bubbling brook. Me, Mom, my sister and brother crossed the slender stream by foot feeling the touch of little brittle ripples.
Enthusiastically I picked up pretty pebbles and collected shiny glistening gem-like stones from the river-bed and pebbly stream strand.
I climbed the peak of low hill experiencing the glory of victory of my first expedition. I was just startled to respond on echoes shouting in the valley.
Wood apples trees were overloaded with mellow fruits spreading all along the boundary of the garden. After lunch, I used to tear off fruits to relish sapid juicy pulp with small wooden spoon. I was too amused enjoying chirping and chattering of unfamiliar birds.
I met a maternal uncle as father-figure perfectly matching with the environment giving me first music lessons.
When child at seven,
Interaction with Nature
placed me in Heaven.
On seventy plus
Reminiscence still haunt me
wishing rendezvous.
08/12/17
Haibun Contest by Debbie Guzzi
Categories:
pebbly, appreciation, nature,
Form:
Haibun
Written: June 24, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Soft waves embrace the clean seashore.
Caressing the sands we once walked before.
Leaving footprints imprinted on the land,
A memory crafted by nature's loving hand
The shore, a canvas of dreams,
Where sand castles stand tall, it seems
Guarding our secrets, our laughter, our joy
Until the waves of high tide destroy
Plovers dart on fleet feet,
Spread out on the damp sand, the fleet
With grace and precision, they dance and play.
Adding life to the shore's enchanting display
Pebbly and pure, the sand beneath our toes
Soft, wet, and cool—a sensation that flows.
Beige and tan, a palette of hues,
The shore's gentle whispers—a symphony to amuse
Whispers of the shore, echoing in the breeze,
The love and memories that forever seize
The tender tides, akin to kisses on the land,
Caressing the shore with a gentle hand
The smooth shore holds our footsteps dear.
A testament to the moments we held near.
Sandcastles stand guard, proud and strong.
As the tides rise and sing their song.
Categories:
pebbly, appreciation, beach, beauty, fun,
Form:
Rhyme
The most peaceful time of day is just before sunrise when you are alone and have the whole world to yourself.
Quote by poet.
At dawn I went for a stroll along the lonely beach,
waves were lapping gently on the pebbly shoreline.
Then there it was before me a golden orb; sunrise.
Categories:
pebbly, beach, sun,
Form:
Free verse
Summertime in Malibu
Laying on the bed completely naked,
Watching the moon and drinking my Martini,
How I wish to have you at this moment, my summertime.
Without change anything except our bodies,
Our lips, our way of standing by one soul,
Hoping for a unseen love so beautiful, so pebbly off,
For a night and a day I can fall into these mountainous thoughts, and carry myself away into this nothingness
As they say it...
Ah, where are you, summertime? Where?
Under the widen edge of my bed, transfixed by more
Revelation, to your eyes closed, where the spirit
Wept in the darkness, telling me I am so unappeasable
To be carried without wonder?
No tears came from my eyes: the lovely flood of living,
When I froze the tranquil wave of the waiting
Pain of this imperial love that he had given
From inside me, I closed my legs --Oop!
My eyes and I go to sleep.
Categories:
pebbly, loss, sad, love,
Form:
Ballad
Cottage by whistling river beautiful, cozy and warm
Wreathed by Mother Earth in her seasons’ natural charm
Drenched in rain or covered in blanket of snow
Disappeared in fog or shimmering in morning glow
Bursting with bubbly stream’s harmonious melodies
Worshiped in mysticism of surrounding shrubs and trees
Through Damp curvy roads of mountains and valleys,
Woodlands of evergreen firs and pines
Through veils of fog drawn by shivering rains,
Misty clouds lingering on mountain range
While enjoying views of icy snow patches
And sprinkles of waterfalls’ dancing droplets
While admiring loveliness of graceful pebbly river
Through traffic flow of several big and small vehicles
Come to cottage spiraling through serpentine pathway
Bowing to tall, robust guarding firs on the way
Captivated by elegance of snow covered land
Hypnotized by incessantly flowing brook’s symphonic band
By forgetting all five senses, be one with nature
Like tranquil rocks in river…
Categories:
pebbly, nature, river,
Form:
Prose Poetry
My outline, a fragile skeleton,
Fluorescent marking,
Is getting even smaller,
Spoiled and dulled
From all the walking.
The language is pebbly,
Woody and damp,
Not able to express
This existence,
Where rock could have been
Timber and
Fluid altering to lumber.
And so I fight, to react
To this world,
In tempestuous meaning
To my form.
Still, my skeleton is
Or would have been,
In my own flesh,
Just another flicker,
Some kind of atonement.
© 2009 Stefania Carmen Misaila
Categories:
pebbly, life
Form:
Free verse
***Summer's not quiet here yet, but I live in Florida...***
Summer
Earth awaken as a plethora of whales disembark from distant places
Frigid storms dashed into the skies destined to inhabit empty spaces
Sea captain tell seadogs to hoist skull and bones then fire pirate gun
White wings outspread dazzling albatrosses herald the season begun
Bodies swathed in lotion fervently absorb bronzing rays from the sun
Pushing crusted pails and trowels children tossed pebbly sand for fun
Bathers in the nude deny nervousness while bravado displays finesse
Footprints upon shores pay homage to the gods of true summer bliss
Penned on: 01/14/2018
4:53 p.m.
West Palm Beach
Florida USA
Categories:
pebbly, celebration, summer, sunshine,
Form:
Rhyme