Best Stonework Poems

The ancient anguish of a hurting heart
Bequeaths no beauteous scene to me today.
It’s just a jagged chasm gashed apart,
A stream with boulders strewn in disarray.
Like rusted leaves that bleakly canvas fall
Or barren trees that bear the winter snow,
Its listlessness conceals a stonework wall
That bars the...

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Spring arrived, ‘Twas the dawn of man
Consciousness exploded with a Big Bang
We foraged inquisitively for berries and nuts
Soon building settlements and primitive huts

A subtle spark conjured otherworldly fire
And with it came a burning desire
Tales of titans and mythical creatures
Serpents and beasts with grotesque features

Summer arose,...

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I looked up at the mountain,
the result - I was in awe!
George, Teddy, Tom, and Abe,
were the faces, that I saw!

Faces carved in granite.
Fourteen years, to get it done!
Over 400 people did the stonework,
completed - October 1941!

Why these four were chosen,
may have been a mystery?
It's...

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Of a distant land I ponder.
Of a country torn asunder.
Of Zimbabwe ne'er forgotten -
Where the life has turned so rotten.
Ah it tugs my heartstrings so -
This much loved land so full of woe.

In my dreams I walk in bushland.
Glimpse stealthy leopard stalk at night.
And I...

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I was no sooner asleep, via another plain I'd arrived
It was not of this world, was my journey contrived

For I awoke in a place that I had never ever seen
Trying to understand where I am, what does it all mean

The surroundings that are before me...

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king of the castle
master of all I survey
my territory

panoramic view
rough stonework castellation
fresh breeze, muffled sounds

see people below
most will not/cannot see me:
ancient castle’s ghost

Jack Horne...

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DISTURBED MINDS

Pete was a handsome young boy, only fifteen years of age,
Had PSYCHOSIS, his reality severely distorted, a mental disorder,
Felt that his brain was contained in a wrought iron cage, 
Knew that ultimately, his life would be harder and shorter!

Pete’s father, was the local village...

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"toity poiple boids,
dehd upahn da coib, 
noh muh chiopin or
boipin, 
or eatin doity
woims..."

I found a dead
sparrow this
morning,
sideways on the
stoop, 
strangely unblooded,
gifted by clever
cats, 
it fed my morning
reverie, 
always heavy on my
shoulders, 
in the early frozen
hours, 
of frost's last
gasp, 
my damp spring
mantle, 
as I cling to...

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Ashes to transcendence mid infested holy waters
naught bearing ascertained compassionate divinity,
mad puppet masters fleecing       wings in lieu of
ceremoniously exorcised influential malignancy
at the right hand of almightily held hallucinations
strapped over barrels & sanctimoniously flogged, 
no show of mercy notwithstanding devoted...

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The Life of a Breakwater
		
			A walk on the sharp shingle led to where
			The dry, smooth surface felt warm to our feet,
			The pale grey stonework embedded in the beach.
			Those steps so broad and long led down into 
			The calm sea. We paused, luxuriating
			Where the Summer sun...

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the Bougainvillea creep ...
tip-toe along the rough stonework
little woody tendrils of
life stretching for ... what?
I fear, to prove me not near as
hearty as they …
April's chill weep streaks
the glass doors,  each raindrop
hesitating as it trickles down ...
stops ... trickles again …
as if deciding on...

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Neon lights outlined stalls
in braids of red and green
in the dim cavernous hall
of the railway station.
Muted drum taps of passing feet
and crisscross talk were pierced
by stabbing announcements
of departing trains.
A stairway tunneled upwards
to the street
where a wall of daylight
met squinting eyes.
Stonework still wore the soot
of steam...

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An ancient castle’s rowdy crowds were thinned
By war and famine. Once its fortress fell
To fire, its people left it to the wind.
In time, the spirit of its aging well

Perceived the surging danger of decay
Which mired his quiet will to live within
The lonesome corner where his...

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The cottage has changed
And not only the cottage itself
For buildings exude more than just their fabric
They say something about their owners
About their occupants
About their time

When last I was here
The dwelling communicated a solitary inhabitant
In touch with nature and self-sufficient
Sustenance from the land was evident all...

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Paris was built gray, though in summer,
the trees and the umbrellas upload color.
The architecture spills over
into gay shades of silver and pewter.

Edinburgh is gray, gray are the plastic rainhats.
Damp kilts gamely fly a little color.
The stonework is granite gained,
and in late arriving Spring
color creeps up...

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