The mind
when immersed in memories
of yesterday carried by
hopes of tomorrows
and thoughts that like stones
on the surface of a lake
skip from feeling to heart
tracing ripples of emotions
as from nature's beauty
to the smallness of self
is a universal totality
brushing wind over water
to wave onto shore
a life that lost on Earth
helps grow the next wave
that reaches beyond
into the horizon
where some go to sleep
while others wake
are born or take last breath
to be born again
matters not if the sun shines
or the moon reflects on its surface
glass only gives back
the reality of what is
not what one wants
the universal blanket
over and under
above and below
into time on end
not wavering not changing
to accommodate humanity
sustains eternity
what was and what will be
wishing to be more
is as a mere leaf that falls
over an oak seed on its bank
majestic in the passing
before and after us
is where we take part
of forever

Marta
06/01/2017

statue angels and stone cold kings.
mine their hearts and steal their rings.
turn them into crowns for nobles unbound,
sitting with Arthur at a table so round.

ancient martyrs and modern heroes.
tales of rebellion and battles they go.
fighting horned demons and winged serpents,
with blood on their hands they feel the repentance.

they drink their *** and consume the alcohol,
waiting and watching for the hammer to fall.
yet no news came of the hellish flame,
that was said to burn them all.

The grass skirt women walks the moon soaked sand.

In each, hands are her magic stones which she could have never sold.

Each one different in all possible ways.

One is red, and bright other blue and clear.

So as she walks many turn and hear.

A song of cletic muse with brilliant hues coming to sight.

She places them in a wooden circle then praise there powers

Take this flat, round, stone
I told my son, and daughter too
Throw it hard, spinning it
Across the stilled pond
Count your big splashes
Watch the ripples grow

First stones they threw
Only singular sets of ripples
Then two, then three, then more
Eventually, their stones, with mine
Easily reached the other shore
Splashes, into ripples galore

Ripples formed by casted rocks
Have they lasting print upon
Hearts of those I've loved
Standing now on faraway shores
Gleefully leaping, dancing, tossing
Skipping stones hid in their pockets

Are my stones, living on in ripples
Marked indelible in memories
Cast in mind's marble and stone
A forever legacy or merely
A dimly lit fading thought
In minds and hearts forlorn

Once, when I was young
I knew, I could ripple the world
Now, I only hope a weary rest  
To lay burden upon the shore
Enfeebled arm, for slinging stones
Pond's winter death, comes nigh

A bit of time left, of sweet life
To cast a few more stones
Boulders, to toss into the river
Giving the biggest splash
Heavy to lift, except with help
From other believers in ripples

©  2017 Jim Davis

Must we hurt ourselves
Diving into the fray?
Must we **** ourselves
Hoping in misery?

Shall we beat ourselves
On being an imbecile?
Shall we treat ourselves
Lower than we feel?

Shall we pick roses
Thorns and bladed leaves
Blood-red colors in corsets
Of Pain and Lust that lives

The stone shimmers,
Giving pause to my blisters,
Until momentum decides
And sole is met by wet promise
Half submerged by passing doubts
And so hope clasps joy with a cold gasp,
Gifting courage
For the next leg.

This is a verse for the grey nomad,
An archetypal older lad,
What? Bored with watching TV?
Why can't you travel without her or me?
So, you wish to travel, "Off the beaten track!"?
Camping, "Back to the basics!" Alas, alack!
Are you camping alone tonight?
Sooky! Older ladies have seen the light,
Indoor plumbing is all the go,
We wave rolling stones, "Bye!" no woe......

Walking on cobbles stones under my feet the world seems so small,
the bees and butterflies float
and the sky seems so blue,
but when I reached my hand to the sky and see the sun, millions and millions of miles away, is bigger than the size of my stretched out palm,
I begin to feel small.
The empty minded drivers racing on the highway with their phone in one hand and a burger in the other seem to remember their babies in the back seat too late.
This world isn’t so small after all, as soon as you think you’ve got it figured out,
the world gets a little bigger,
your heart sinks a little deeper,
and your mind thinks a little sadder.
How did the cobblestones under my feets grow into boulders on my shoulders weighing down my shoulder, which are already fatigued by the other weights already there.
When we were younger we couldn't wait to grow up. And now I’m here and I want to be taken back, please take me back, please take me…
To a cloud filled sky where I would pick out shapes to see, yet now I see no clouds because what’s the point of looking up, because we all know when we look up we see the world at it’s biggest and ourselves at our lowest.