Granite Poems

cake and granite

Both are once in a lifetime events
which happen to fall on the same day.

To be surrounded by grief or joy
pay respects to the past
or raise a toast to the future.
For certain, I'll remember the first of September 
in a different way.

Whatever the decision
there're still hundreds of miles of black ribbon 
between cake and granite-happiness and sorrow.

Granite Chrysalis

Jigsaw girl was a supreme pleaser
her pieces imperfectly placed by "the others".
Always the first to acknowledge the last to be noticed.
Nobody cared enough to really get to know her. 

One "other" paid her frailties some attention
loneliness always jumps at the first glance
to escape from its granite chrysalis...
but being stretched like silly putty never really lasts.
She only halfway snapped back long after that.

She withdrew into a coil of broiling silence
where jagged echoes only invite things 
that are lost, brass-eyed, in crisis.

It took "the others" forever to toss her a rope
she tied a half-dozen white roses together
slid off the last wicker chair dream, 
dangling from all hope...lifeless.

The States, United On Granite

The United States is now a business
Though it was originally sound
And is led by those who have no business
To run it right into the ground

One crime syndicate after another
Backed by the worse money that money can buy
Have borrowed to the edge of infinity
If there is angst, now we know why

But we are not their toxic concoction
And they don’t yet own the whole planet
We’re American strong and will be as long as
We remain the states, united on granite 

Since they own the old school media
Their deceitful news comes out as they plan it
Yet the truth will find a way as long as
We remain the states, united on granite

Rock Love

blotches 
of green velvet 
in grey crags
soft 
tender 
patches 
embeded
in severe stone

rock love

it may roll
but it rolls
with them
it may freeze
but they don't 
leave

indifferent 
as a boulder
can be
they 
still cling

without him
they wouldn't be

inanimate granite
something
to hang onto
that will never leave
what more
could lichen
need

Human Landscape

   Man the tall mountain,
    
    Protector to pose,

    Flexing of granite,

    Willed flesh to propose.


    Woman the valley,

    Soft curving flow,

    Stretching of lushness,

    Receiving to grow.


    Leave them as different,

    Equal or bold,

    Embracing of matter,

    Completing the mold.

Taken For Granite

Good ol' dependable, hardworking Janet
Is shunned like a rock from an alien planet
With a heart of pure gold
She's a gem to behold
And will no longer be taken for granite

1/24/23

Rock On

Don’t take for granite who you are
Just be a little boulder
Remember that you’re made of stars
And someday when you’re older

You may be a marble statue
That the pebbles gaze upon
And the world shale marvel at you
And of quartz you will rock on.

Revised From Original Poem Raindrops and Granite By Mike Scarcelli

Rain was falling on granite rocks
Cleft slabs frozen in winter
Thaw in spring with seasonal changes
A single drop of rain now seeps into tears
Then it flowed freely
Its puddles turned into seas

Evaporated into the sky
The storm swept it up
And carried it through rainbows and thunderstorms
Passing the lightning
And hurtled through the tornado
Tempest of Destruction

And it fell once more
Landed in the fields
Dew on oak leaves

A White Cross Over a Granite Gravestone

Walking among a thousand graves
you will notice a white cross
over a granite gravestone;
he was the youngest soldier
to be buried and ended up alone;
but in someone's heart, he still lives!

A white cross is a symbol of faith
that stands out from all the others,
the true devotion of a soldier is the blood that flows
through the veins of whom has indisputable worth!

Searching a thousand names,
some new, some old: 
they all met the same fate
and they were told
that life was a temporary stay
filled with feelings of tender love and bitter hate!
Whoever was bold gained glory through pain, 
but whoever did not seek it, died in vain! 
All are sleeping under the shade of the stately pines! 

A white cross over a granite gravestone
can't spread a huge shadow to protect it from the scorching sun;
I'm kneeling down with crossed fingers and relive
the images not erased by time and memory and I can
feel a serenity that only profound silence can give! 
Praised be their courage, honor them with an appreciative  tone!   
A white cross over a granite gravestone
is a reminder that death is more painful for the ones who grieve!

Granite

Heart impenetrable.
I hammer a nail
In a vain attempt
To hang my portrait.
In the depth of her soul.
She loves me not,
The spark has long died,
Like a weak light
In a hurricane lamp.
Everything's dark 
And hard.....
Like granite.

Attitude of Need

All humans have a need, to feel good and be happy
but humans need of greed, is destroying earths granite
Mother Nature has a need, to feel good and be happy
but it’s turning to weed, and feels very unhappy

Its death is short, with a dying nature
no one seems to give a dam, about destroying our planet
Where is the caring attitude, to get rid of this evil virus
We need to find an anti-dote, to cure Mother Nature’s life

A Granite Sculptor

Midday sun burns. 
An iron chisel plays
sad tunes on a stone.
He enjoys prolonged
                   chiseling.
The granite conceives
from his tool-point, 
giving birth to a god, 
who will be plagued 
in a prayer hall, with
endless demands, by
someone as his spouse. 
Though no narcissistic
            admiration, his 
sculptures are marvelous.
Creativity is the sperm
of beauty, growing in 
            mind’s womb. 

He lights a candle at night.	
While warming his palms
over the flame, red hue 
reminds him of an old 
bloodshed over his god. 
A sculptor is never a culprit
behind a communal clash, yet 
musing moths swarm his mind.

First published in The Literary Hatchet

Granite Eagle Mermaid

granite eagle mermaid
scraping in solitude
reverence toward the cross
and the One who gave all
storm cloud horizon
repose, rewarded
in mystical essence,
loved purely 
on spiritual plane

Cold Stoned Heart Granite My Pebbled Soul - a Haiku

COLD STONED HEART GRANITE MY PEBBLED SOUL - A Haiku

Embracing caring
A precious, little stone grows
watching the pebble

marble I choose to
embracing the caring stone
watching the pebble

just what does this mean
A precious, little stone grows
flesh heart cold turn stone

I choose to marble
granite your soul all to joy
flesh heart cold turn stone

this means just hard love
stones placed around my own heart
I choose to marble

sunny chromatic
A good,flesh heart holding
betrayed by flesh hands

4/11/19

A Granite Sculptor

Midday sun burns. 
An iron chisel plays
sad tunes on a stone.
He enjoys prolonged
                   chiseling.
The granite conceives
from his tool-point, 
giving birth to a god, 
who will be plagued 
in a prayer hall, with
endless demands, by
someone as his spouse. 
Though no narcissistic
            admiration, his 
sculptures are marvelous.
Creativity is the sperm
of beauty, growing in 
            mind’s womb. 

He lights a candle at night.	
While warming his palms
over the flame, red hue 
reminds him of an old 
bloodshed over his god. 
A sculptor is never a culprit
behind a communal clash, yet 
musing moths swarm his mind.

First published in The Literary Hatchet, then reprinted in Barking Sycamore, US.

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