Cobblestone Poems - Poems about Cobblestone

Cobblestone echoes beat of heel, her sonorous rhythm many hearts feel ...

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The cobblestones echo the night, The feet of those in search of the light. CREATE A CRYSTALLINE - lines must rhyme poetry contest Nette Onclaud June 17, 2025....

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A cobblestone one day, I chose to paint a paperweight with a rose ...

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the stones are smooth from years of wear but not the jostle to cross the square written June 16, 25 for Nette Onclaud's Crystalline Contest...

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strong and loud, of cobblestone made - I won’t become some cheap concrete grade...

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It’s never too late to have a happy childhood."  ~Tom Robbins The time for cobblestone is past; follow the yellow brick road at last? ...

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I walk an old cobblestone street . . . finding an old church I take a seat...

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my eyes sink into cobblestone streets to hear hoofbeats and Paul Revere...

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each Cobblestone makes up the road ouch from your very sharp high heel shoes...

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Wounds once buried beneath soft steps, now echo through me, stone by stone undone. Contest: Crystalline Poetry Contest Sponsor: Nette Onclaud Date: June 14, 2025...

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Rubbed smooth and round in river slides ~ Cobbles jumbled - roughen stone-road rides...

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All around the world There is art you can see You can touch And you can even walk on Cobblestones are not new They have been around forever Still very few take the time to look at them The beautiful designs some add Other archaic haphazard designs Each adds to the beauty of the medium If you get the chance to walk a cobblestone street Take...

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Big yellow buses, on days when it rains, Olympus for chips, then waiting for trains, Long summer evenings, with walks in the park, Town Hall, tall chimneys, a Jack Russell’s bark, Open front doors, red brick, cobblestone, Nice to be back, always glad to be home....

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On ruby red sunsets demise Etched on gravestones sorrow Below the beds of cobblestones Less compromised then when alive Lie the fallen upon the morrow From the depths of empty wells Fire dragons rise to turn the tides of time Like dreams that twist and turn to life Caught in a sleep as well they might As Sunrise takes the light...

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didn't intend to be in another Irish pub but it's raining and they're so much better in the land of saints and scholars where musicians don't play for tourists John a school teacher brought the fiddle that he learned to play at his mom's set dances (Set dancing lessons--Mondays 7pm) Sarah, the pretty lass the other side of me brought her mom Mom's sipping Jameson because it's the best she...

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