Best Skipping Poems
He was skipping along, swinging his arms and laughing
At what I don't know.
His grandmother, lagging a few steps behind, was laughing at him I suppose.
And I thought to myself, she loves him, she does,
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
He stopped when he got to the corner and waited for me to turn right.
A smile crossed his lips,
As he waved at me - at me and my shabby old car.
And when I had passed him, he started to prance quite merrily on his way.
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
The confidence of youth flowed joyfully through him,
Just looking at him made me smile.
And you know what I did? I pulled to the curb and parked my silly old car.
I watched for a while as he started to run and then charge on out of sight.
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
How old he was then, I'm really not sure, Maybe five, maybe six,
Not yet Seven.
But ageless his quest to embrace this life whatever might come his way.
A sadness crept into my heart just then for I knew life would never be fair to
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
It will be harder for him to be special. The color of his skin will not help.
I wish I could be there
To tell him be careful, stay safe in this white man's domain.
But maybe the people he'll meet in his life will let him be just who he is
This Beautiful Brown Eyed Boy.
Skipping past daisies
twirling with ease
smiling at nature
and all that does please
tackling life's worries
with a heart full of grace
answering God's calling
with an angelic face
bathing in jasmine
aged like fine wine
a scent of forever
from beginning of time
rich red cherry blossoms
left with a kiss
flowering a kinship
one cannot dismiss
skipping past daisies
with the soon setting sun
comfort her beauty
two grow now as one
waves shape the sea glass
rain paints the skipping stones
sand frames the ocean
I skip one stone across the pond,
an oblate onyx dotting i's
in footles of a vagabond
who tiptoes after tiger eyes.
Perhaps the ripples left behind
are teary runes of gray moonstone
by starry sapphires once declined
for poesies of chalcedone.
In unison do pines recite
around the swaying cellophane
with spruce in verses malachite
on tawny-needled counterpane.
Soon aloe waters recompose
an epilogue of silent prose.
11/5/17
Image #1
“Good Morning! I know you are busy. Will you stop for a while for an interview?”
Sir, what do you want to know? If only you are keen,
And do not look at me with prejudice, I shall explain,
How I ended up here and tell you my whole story_
The story of my journey from the cliff to the plane.
“Yes, I know you are a traveller, tell me all about it. But before that, I wish to know about your origin and background.”
I was part of a big rock, so static without motion.
I used to watch birds in flight on feathered wings,
Going from one end to the other, merrily singing,
Buoyed up by the force of the wind as on swings.
Like them I longed to be free and roaming
But knew I was cradling just a fanciful whim.
I slept most of my life with my dream tucked in my heart.
As time rolled by, my dreams and fancies grew dim.
It was then a tremor shook the very face of the earth,
Loosening my mother boulder from her strong hinge.
She moved and rolled down from the great heights,
On the way a chip got broken, in pain I did twinge.
Thus, I was born. Painfully, alienated from my mother,
I felt so orphaned and lay silent in a dark corner,
Lost and hungering like a dream waiting to wake up.
But my grief gave way to joy, no more I was a mourner.
“It sounds so interesting. How did it all happen? Please tell me…..”
Seeing me lying dejected and despondent, a small stream
Took pity on me and carried me along.
I enjoyed my ride and never more I was sad.
Now to a wider world, joyfully I belong.
Freed from all chains, I am out to view life and enjoy.
I stay in nature’s bosom, free to saunter wherever I wish.
Never feeling the need to pitch my tent, like a gipsy,
I travel along with the stream, with a merry swish.
“So glad to know that your life has taken such an unexpected turn. Now a last question.How do you respond to the popular saying- ‘A Rolling Stone gathers no moss.’”
Sorry, I have nothing to comment. Let men see it that way,
Enjoy life is my creed, my song is the song of liberty.
Leaving all cares and sorrows behind, like a tramp I stroll,
Taking turns and twists, sometimes cascading down in endless novelty.
“Thank you for stopping by to tell the story of your life and sharing your views and aspirations on life”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Skipping stones across the still quite waters
While as enclosed within these submerged thoughts....
Pondering this blanket of fogful mist alongst the path, have I tread and beared
As in time as in life as of recent days
Allowing shadows their moments somehow, someway?!
Lost amid the backwards brush of a translations, understanding....
Interpretations tattood upon my heart like an inverted crossing
Blood drenched quills soaked in cardinal red
Etched upon the caverns walls of what should have been said
These words this verse a world and then!?
Skipping stones from my very own Souls bleeding wounds
In gushing currents caught to seep through this they rent
Poisoned dreams; saturated walls aneath ripplings effects....
Rising dunes across quicksand deserts born in the mires; deeper and deeper
Into sedations daze as the storm clouds quickly gather above
Translations from these interpretations of, so called love?!
But how could this be and why I ask myself again
As the undertow of riptides begin to draw them in; further, into their sin...
Blood atop the pages to be extracted this breath of life
Life, that I have longed to embrace; to present
Spilled until its love had morphed into something bent!?
Stepping back from the edge now, upon this mountains cliff
The valley below amid chasteless darkness beckoning unto my Spirit
Calling from beyond; enticing tongues soaked in the stillness of, cortege red....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....“Skipping Stones” ~
Skipping past daisies
twirling with ease
smiling at nature
and all that does please
tackling life's worries
with a heart full of grace
answering God's calling
with an angelic face
bathing in jasmine
aged like fine wine
a scent of forever
from beginning of time
rich red cherry blossoms
left with a kiss
flowering a kinship
one cannot dismiss
skipping past daisies
with the soon setting sun
comfort her beauty
two grow now as one
soft spoken lyrics weave their fingers between yours
taking you to a calendar’s crossed out day
maybe one you had thought was forgotten
one that seemed to wander astray
but the words chimed in your peaceful mind
as the faceless tune decides what it will portray
sometimes you enjoy the mysterious memories
sometimes you want to push them away
but for some unknown reason they all trickle down
winding recollection streams
to places you thought were lost in the silent splash
of your skipping stone dreams
Walking the shoreline
Of the tranquil-jagged coast,
As the surge crashes.
*
As the surge crashes
I pick up a flat-smooth rock;
I cast it to sea.
*
I cast it to sea
With an impulse of seeing,
The skipping of stones.
I was just thinking of my memories
The good, bad the happy and sad
The ones I wish I could forget
But never will
The ones I wish I could remember
But never can
The people I have loved and lost
My memories are full of people who shared my dreams
But found themselves lost in my nightmare
Though the nightmare was no less
Than a dream in itself
As a stone skips across the water
Sometimes the emptiness overwhelms me
As the memories are close enough for me to taste.
Yet forever out of reach
Lost in the darkness created by my addictions
For my memories were too much to bear
And I just had to forget
The guilt of my own shame
And I was so confused that I thought the needle
Was taking away my pain
When it was the very thing that created it
As a stone skips across the water
I ask of you dear Lord
What am I to be?
He replied, “Mike you are the stone skipping out to me”
I don’t know exactly what that means
But I reckon someday I will
Until then all I can say
The Lord and I are skipping still
For everyday is a memory and tomorrow is a dream
And I am just a simple stone skipping down the stream
Love soars
Like a rock being skipped
Across uneven waters
The energy drains with every fall
The rock takes
Until
Finally
The momentum dies
And drowns the hopes
Of ever seeing it again
Love is like a skipping stone
If you throw too hard
You'll have one glorious leap
That immediately end in tragedy
If you throw lightly
The distance and the leaps
Seem to last forever
Leaving you heartbroken
With victory
Love is like skipping stones
It never lasts on the surface
But you know it's still lying there
Deep underneath the tides
Of memories and sorrows
Every rock thrown
You think you'll do a little better
Get a little farther
Rocks can't grow wings
The problem is
People are so focused
On skipping stones
That they forget
To hold them first
SKIPPING STONE
In a constant lack of motion
but a reckless state of mind,
all you want is your seclusion
and a friend who's hard to find;
you've been looking through a window
at someone you never see,
never reaching for a reason
never thinking I'm just me.
As if you want to be alone.
Or just another skipping stone,
with somebody too well known.
In the hopeless life you're living,
there are friends who leave you cold,
it's a carousel you're riding,
and the song is getting old;
all the things you've held most dearly
come to nothing in the end,
and your search is overlooking
someone who's more than your friend.
Someone who'd be there when you cry.
Who'd never think of asking why,
who could help you learn to fly.
Living songs about confusion
like a puppet on a string,
one is pulled and your responding
is whatever pull should bring;
you will go in the direction
everyone says you should go,
and the person you are hiding
is someone you'll never know.
Out through the window is your friend.
From the beginning, to the end,
who will give, but never lend.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
He set them dancing across the water,
A special talent he seemed to have.
I looked on with pride,
And not a little envy.
His skipped seven times,
Mine went “thunk”.
Were old now and slowing down,
But I’ll bet that brother of mine..
Could still skip seven times
And mine would still go “thunk”.
For Nathan's contest
Skipping school to play baseball,
spending up all I got at the Mall;
having fun and laugh with girls
who love Coca Cola and burgers.
It's a day of fun for kids dripping with sweat,
if I'm lucky to hit a home run, I will freak;
Mario runs for first base, he doesn't make it:
we lose the game, our team was way too weak.
Now it's time for ice cream, we head for Carvel,
I spend all my saved money to pay for the bill;
I hope mom doesn't see the broken piggy jar:
she'll ground me, no playing on the monkey bar.
A red car pulls up the curb, it's ugly and clanky;
" Who's that lady with the straw hat? It's mom! "
" Come here, little brat; you're grounded,Tom!"
I just turn pale and say sorry for playing hooky.
Written on 5/17/2017
O, thy eyes doth not bring guilt unto me,
For neither mine hath cast it upon thee!