a pebble skips when it’s smooth
sinks when it’s not
like a child’s first ballet
flights of fancy her thoughts
Line of inquiry:
"this form of dust is by God energised
wherein we are living light housed within
how may this truth be realised
show us oh monk, how to begin" Unseeking Seeker
———————————————————————
I am but a pebble tossed in a pond
Envious of the Hand that tosses me on
To meet the ripple of water’s truth
To mold me fold me into my use
I have been hard I have been lost
Earned a few scars became soft
Oh how I float within my destiny
I hope to grow in emerald eternity
Losing my pride I gain so much
The third eye and time I can trust
For the pathless path leads to Thee
I’ve only to let You bless guide me
My mind teeters on a cliff of eroding dust and pebble.
Above, the light shines, a rebel to the dust and pebble.
Below, the chains tighten around my frame,
as jagged rocks claw through flesh and name.
The sea smashes through me; | lie gasping for breath,
a whisper away from the clutch of death.
My mind fixates on the constant pummelling,
my thoughts tunnelling,
like honey funnelling,
the future muddling,
but the heart humbling
as my mind teeters on a cliff of eroding dust and pebble.
The pebble collector find pebbles, by creating Ripples.
For Contest Make It Two, Please, Sponsored by Nette Onclaud, dated October 6, 2025
Sleek stream cascades in heart of vale,
glazes the old pebble’s face once pale.
Its whispering sighs tumbled
downhill to drown in pearl flow,
merged with concert of murmur,
its ancient song sung.
One small round stone, with spindrift swept
‘Cross ageless shores - through ages, wept
Beach-to-beach it passed through time
Brown husk shrinking midst each storm
And though that plain rock neared ends
One child snatched it … RARE!
“Make It Two, Please” Poetry Contest”
Nette Onclaud, Judge & Sponsor
October 6, 2025
I've wished for long to be like them -
a billion years to be a gem,
but I'm only a pebble,
alone, plain and unnoticed.
Now I know where I belong -
in this boy's pocket.
If not quite like dotcom bubble
AI seems in no small trouble.
GPT five’s failure,
Would it match its loud roar
And heard from Tower of Babble?
________________________
Happenings | 02.09.2025 | technology, USA
Note: Is AI a bubble, too much hype and boisterous babble? Is a bust coming? GPT5 admitted a flop show. Nvidia gave but a modest forecast. MIT study: 95% of dreams failed to deliver… Time was when adding ‘.com’ to a company’s name boosted its value. Today, adding ‘AI powered’ does the same trick. Too much is being expected from AI too soon. Anyway, AI seems to have hit a wall. Would it scale it to move ahead, or a precious stone turn a pebble? This ditty wonders.
from the I-shaped metal
we set sail to the ocean
with a pirate crew over dozen
as lightning struck and tide crashes
to go over the horizon together
has always been the X mark we trailed
then there's the cannon boring hole
and the mermaid's enchanting call
to a single pebble, tied to a rugged rope
we drift away to the sea
some survived remained ashore
keeping stone to be afloat
being a rock is to keep adore
a new ship, as the old one's sunken
with few and enough crew
despite the artilleries and the abyss pull
To teach a pebble how to sing,
you need a simple shepherd’s sling.
The stone’s inclined to be a grouch
when first you set it in the pouch.
It will go silent, being trapped
so tightly in the leather wrapped.
But as you swing the pouch around,
it comes alive; you hear a sound.
At last that pebble sings with glee
as you release and set it free.
( a series of homophones, to delight you. )
One Precious Pebble on earth one precious pebble in the sea
roll with the waves my child and look, see what you can see
As the wind's of change stir your soul and whip your hair
you'll be wild and free on this earth just like the wild hare
Cup your hands and drink the blessed water like the lily flower
I'm a Father who lives for your healing, in a cloud of white flour
I can bring you riches that no amount of money can ever buy
and when your time on earth is over, I'll be there by and by
Today you are meeting the future that yesterday's storm blew,
but tomorrow I will greet you, beneath skies of Saintly blue
One precious child in a vessel of old, you are part of Noah's Ark
lift your eyes then wait and I'll soon show you a rainbow's arc.
By Mystic Rose
Clint's an iffy fellow, tis prestige vs the ordinaire, my dear plain Jane--hmm, partially accommodating.
Methinks you're a drop-off, my dear, picture a car dropping you off curbside while he goes looking for a fictitious parking space, but a gentleman he is uses the factual context of the 11th hour--OPS you to HAIL me.
I gather Mr. Eastwood was gifted said ticket, ... that I am guessing you so happened to be in pysical possession.
How did you know that? That would pleasure him of not being a CAD!
I forgot that you're like some madda carrie.
Mother who? You mean that Mother Teresa (rising popularity 1979).
No, that German one.
A German Mother Teresa? Was she young Adolph's school teacher.
Oh forget it! [LATER: she reveals "Mata Hari']"
Did he you call you and tell you, or are you playing Holmes?
Doc--tor 'tis Clint's gift?
Yes, but-- ... --wait ... it must be somebody of importance ... yes, but who?
Hehehe! It would be very rich for me, if I saw a glimpse of your face at this relevant juncture-------was I your suggested choice?
... Yes, Oh my? You're scary!
Jane, my former fellow-worker friend, who lives in Carmel-By-The-Sea, and had been visited by many of us from work.
Gleaning Clint as a third invitee at His Hog's Breath Cafe/Tavern, thanks to Jane<--impetus of my 114 miles (228 miles in total, down/up) drive from my San Francisco home, with the added feature, aside from Clint, is California's central coastline drive ... ala incredible folks.
It's been some time since the store episode/trapped-i/epic-sword, in-back at home recovering.
My phone rang during days that it did, of horrid prices and matching service, hmm--half a second or half a century.
Anyhow, tis Jane calling for a special invite to The Grand as her creative date/Clint cancelled last minute as he found her to be his perfect catch at 21 ... to a catch 22, so the lamb pulled out of the bag and clawed me.
watching the ocean
whilst sitting in solitude
I feel so tiny
If you have a little rock in your shoe,
You will not cross Alabama,
You will not cross Louisiana,
You’ll have to remove it first,
In poetry, it is the opposite,
If you have a small pebble in your shoe,
Do not remove it, think about it
Make it into a poem.
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