Pebbled Poems | Examples

With a Gentle Hand- Mystic

We saw the feathered edge of the sunset
and dreampt of an evening's wish to explore
Where the beating heart of our yearnings met
And invited romance at the seashore
Where time began to merge and reminisce
As white caps slowly furrowed the pebbled sand
The twilight revealed our heart's eagerness
When we walked together, warm hand in hand
Imagined dreams beneath a star-lit night
And basked in the glorious firmament
Where waves were dressed in white from the moonlight
and sounds from the sea whispered enchantment
As we came to capture Saint Elmo's Fire
That was glowing deep inside our desire

Blank Canvas

      Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore,
           So do our minutes hasten to their end;

                 Quote from Shakespeare’s Sonnet LX
                            Lines one and two

                   Source: The works of Shakespeare 
                         Ward, Lock & Co Limited
                 London, Melbourne and Toronto 1911


                      Blank Canvas

      Our earth has colours rich beyond compare
      The force of nature we shall never tame.
      Where hidden treasures underground so rare
      Reminds us daily nothing stays the same.

      The tapestry of life is woven fine
      Each thread depends upon the master’s loom.
      Connected through the one who is divine
      Ensuring colours with each season bloom.

      Create: the artist paints from canvas blank
      The strokes of life are seen upon our face
      On bended knee we know who we must thank
      Bright colours of our lives we must embrace.

     These precious gifts shall treasure till the end
     Upon our death our soul then must ascend.

                     Christine 20/4/2025

Acorns

Snap crack the hard
Pebbled acorns ricochet
As if thrown by invisible 
Hands of nature’s forces 
Some fall straight 
Others propel with 
Unjust uncertainty and
Deliverance passerby 
Pegged and peppered 
Squirrels intent on 
Getting their winter
Food source fulfilled 
Scurry around burying 
The acorns in 
Potted plants, piles of
Leaves or any such
Hiding spot 
I often wander how
They remember where
Each and every 
Hidey hole is?
Such is wildlife 
Trials and tribulations

Foggy Bottom

     The cold fog rises from the meadow like smoke from Poppy's pipe...
... ever upward with the sweet savour of meadow grass. 
My bare feet, like mortar and pestle, smash out the green scent as I walk through the wet dew, chilled and sprinkled with drops of water. 
     Goosebumps chase each other up my legs to tender, pebbled breasts. I cross my arms for warmth and blow out a quivering cloud of warm breath. 
     Revealed now,  the rugged brown trunks of the trees surrounding me in the distance.
     They wave the fog away, as I've seen Mamaw do with Poppy's pipe smoke...
... with twisting limbs that sway in the breeze.

Nine Shorts - Hana, Dul, Set

Crabs
Small feet pounding the pebbled path,
Desperate to escape
From imminent danger.
Eight legs and two claws
Advance in their thousands
Upon their prey; the child.
Refuge is sought in an adult's arms,
High up and away from
The frightful crustacean march.


Roman
Crimson red and blinding gold
Balanced upon ber small head.
Blonde hair cascades from beneath
In trestles of tight curls.
She leads her troops around ancient streets,
With a smile as bright as the rays
Of the almighty Sol's coronet.
Her lips uttered words of old
That soon resigned to memory.



Hong Kong
The humidity of warm daytime
Gives way to icy harbor air of nighttime.
Man-made neon dances on the water's surface
While natural moonlight seems to target her,
Illuminates her.
Tsim Sha Tsui's streets are hectic,
But its back alleys provide shelter,
And shaved ice with its sweet, milky taste,
Melts on her tired tongue.

Ample Rose Bush

Silken whispers greet the blithe morning
damp mist spring tap on red  oak door
joyful treat preempted faint dawning

Felicity a phase one can’t ignore
bright daffodil white and pink bloom
fragrant garden bouquet stuff of lore

Alyssum’s plump trailing mound may loom
where greyedging border might seem bare
ideal cluster wraparound March plume

Ever present awe inflames my stare
rampant green aroma gust blown sent
nearby rabbit chuckled in its lair

Ample rose bush color splash in lent
showcase of enduring floral sign
tints and tones that ruffle by assent

Snowdrop bells perennial align
sprout from moistened brown earth
on pebbled wall a green creeping vine

Embrace this heady seasonal birth
marvel at its blue spruce tapestry
exhale your élan vital of mirth

Tranquility

Undulating hills and mountains
As far as meets the eye,
Towering pines that seem to kiss 
The clouds in the azure sky.
Birds sing their madrigals,
While a brook murmurs nearby,
Its crystal water gently flowing
On a pebbled bed bordered by
Green grass gracefully swaying
To the breeze’s quiet sigh.

Blossoms of various hues,
Dot the foliage here and there
While bees and butterflies flit 
From bud to bud with care.
A leaf falls from its branch
And seems to hang midair
As if Time stopped for a while
For the whole world to prepare
For this one, exact moment
And bring everyone to prayer.

But this is real tranquility:
When you’re sleeping late at night, 
I pause and put down my pen
To watch you breathe in subdued light 
And gaze at your angelic face;
And then I feel my mind take flight
To fancy and to fairyland
Where all is beautiful and bright.
For by you alone am I inspired
To pick my pen and poems write.

April 15, 2023

On Pimple Pond

On Pimple Pond

Pocked, our dreams spurt from cabin walls. 
Woolen cover and cotton pillow catch 
pin point boils from day breaking, like pitted glass.
White pebbled path meanders the hill’s cheek, 
wet from being squeezed by nights cold hard hands, 
to where set-tables will not wait our scrubs, 
pastes and pleas for clarity like hot egg whites. 
Yawns pop-jaws hinged under waxy ears. 
We pass the lake and spit the dregs of sleep 
onto her smooth glassine mask. 
At the mess ladybugs rest, on pickle-surfaced leaves,
decline to fly. We arrive for breakfast.
One hundred-twenty faces come to bond
And maybe find a friend on pimple pond.

Belonging

Summer fog.
The air thick and warm
with a closeness gathering in
the early morning as if all
that it shrouds share
a common breath.

Everything holds together,
birds, water, the pebbled shoreline,
as a cormorant dives
downwards through the still, 
its underwater wings stirring
the cloudy strands 
of last nights dreams.
I feel it surface somewhere
in me with a shadow 
clamped in its beak.

A few early walkers
emerge, pass by, then dissolve
back into the morning without
so much as a ripple. 
The fog follows me,
quietly closing up the hole 
I leave. I fear if I make
a sound or move out
of this space,
the morning will collapse
into a hot, harsh and angry day,
pushing everything away,
back into the lonely enclosures
of its dislocated parts.

Nocturnal Forest

Edited to include "creatures of the night"

They wait for shadows
to rush and fill their forest home.
Then ushered in by the hoot of the owl
or the whip-poor-will’s call,
they appear as silently as the black of night itself.

A fawn in hiding ambles over to a pebbled pool.
Its family follows.
Fireflies flicker about like tiny lanterns
and the incessant murmur of insects 
fills the air.
Somewhere – cloaked in darkness – a frog croaks.
Soft splashes in the pool 
reveal ducklings paddling along.
Creatures of the night -
badgers, raccoons, and other tiny furry creatures -
scurry through bushes 
foraging for prey smaller than themselves.

Ears prick at the sound
of a lone wolf’s howl.

June 12, 2022

Magical Morning

A mossy pebbled path I took,
                                I came upon a babbling brook;
                                Meandering around the bend,
                            I could not see where it might end;
                             An idle copse of shrubs and trees,
                          Whistling in the calm, morning breeze;
                         Boughs shrouded with lichens hang low,
                               Dangling over the waters flow;
                             Dainty ruffles taunting the shore,
                           Smooth stones adorn the basin floor;
                             Sunlight streams, a magical light,
                         Appearing through the trees, a sprite!











Date: March 30, 2022
For: Form  -L – New Poetry Contest
Sponsored by : Constance La France
Theme: Nature
Syllables verified on howmanysyllables.com
Grammar and Spelling verified on P.S. checker
Placed 3rd in contest

Winter Love

Anxiously waiting autumn's end
Will welcome winter with open arms
When all cobwebs are swept away
With air rarified and pure
Each breath inhaled a cold delight.

Ocean turbulence on grey day
Sea foam and seagulls what a sight
Chilly winter rain does not deter me
Cozy in warm foul weather gear
Am happily away from summer heat.

Loitering on pebbled beach
Expectations of snowstorm low
Gulf stream of warm water
Ensures coastline is free of frost
Sadly no snow but counting blessings.

Why is Ireland so green?
Plethora of rainfall God given gift
Mountains and meadows soak up deluge
However, winter will always invigorate
As vaporous breath becomes misty cloud.


Winter Love 
Free Verse
Poetry Contest
Sponsored
 by: 
JCB Brul 
18/02/2022


Pixabay image: Martina_Bulkova

Dappled Dawn

Like melodies from night leaves sent over
Above the pebbled rivers, her hooves float
Across glens with misty drops of clover
Embroidered in a dwindling dark, she coats
The sleeping land with birdcall's silver notes
A flash, perhaps, between a pine and fir
A starlit ghost, gone as the sunlight stirs
A fabled murmur, unseen and undrawn
Glimpsed as stillness where moons and mornings blur
The gray mare who carries the dappled dawn

2/04/22

D Forms - Dizain contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
First Place

Poem of the Day, 2/06/22

Mermaid Sand Castle

delicate mermaids sculpted from pebbled beach
work of art which will be gone in days
bringing the beauty of the sky into onlooker's eyes
mystical magic, shows artistry and skill

Love Boats

Despite the crisp chill
She wandered to the pebbled shore.
Cold water washed her tender feet.

At last, she sat beneath a pine tree
on a shaven log, shaped like a bench
A train of thoughts passed through her muddled mind.
She wondered if life was passing her by.
She shrugged.  There was nothing she could do.

A grey gull screeched overhead.  She laughed.
Ships, small or large, would go on their way,
Especially love boats on their route to exotic shores,
but she had to stay put,
Until he came back to her again.

Then she would be euphorically happy once more.
Thus she dreamed and fantasized,
moulding her life according to her standards.

But love cannot be forced
nor found on love boats.
They are created deep in the heart
or as was her case, lost at sea
in a terrible turbulent storm.

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