"geode" poems
Appearances can be deceptive,
And to the superficial gaze
The outside looks dull and grey
Plain looking in many ways,
Yet, when a crack causes
Water to seep slowly through,
A Geode can split to reveal
A dazzling sight to view!
Piles of purple crystals
Sparkling in the light,
Such wonderful inner beauty
Now apparent for our delight!
Have you noticed how some people,
May seem plain as plain can be?
Yet, if we take time to peer deeper,
Then, what gems would we see?
Perhaps a beautiful heart
We never thought was there,
Where an aching generosity
Is waiting its time to share?
Yes, a warm, glowing inner beauty
Will emerge before your eyes,
A newly discovered Treasure
For you to cherish, and to prize!
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 11:47 AM UTC
I’ve found another gem in the creek,
it shines with blue orbs in the sun
and white pearls before a coffee
black canvas. I will keep this one
but I can’t remember
where I put the last one… time
took it away on travels tragic— mythic—
and I don’t miss it anymore
now that I have you, my shiny gem,
smoothed geode, cracked
down the center
like the last earthquake that struck my passions
terrified I’ll lose you, I put you away
in a perfect box, in the perfect darkness
of a crawl space crack, a loose closet wallboard
where I will never look again,
hidden
by an idea, hidden
by what I need you to be,
hidden with furious passions
only rivaled
by that of a 12-year-old’s rock collection.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 11:24 PM UTC
Breeze bellows,
leaves echo in
quivering psithurism,
dithering like
unbroken smoke,
this approaching omen goads.
Dozing crows
slumbering in rows,
droves of locusts'
silenced drone,
almost comatose in repose;
nighttime overtones
choir of toads'
raspy croaks
answered by alto
of crickets' orchestral strokes.
Gust encroaches;
robed boughs
cloven open,
bring into
scope and focus
me juxtaposed,
suspended apropos.
Although motionless
and petrified in stone,
provoked by zephyr
coaxing to and fro;
swaying pendulous
and no longer frozen,
locus gently thrown.
Death rattle moan
evoked from throat,
reflex can't say no
to rigor rigidly posed,
final sigh in silence,
awoken vocal,
expelled and disposed.
Smote by
morose emotion,
gun loaded then exploded
by neurosis,
now bloated
necrosis decomposes
into gross ochre.
This trophy
and this ode
both an opus to
my inability to cope;
romanced i proposed,
eloped and betrothed to
my own
inappropriate composure.
Pocket full of posies
plucked when luck bestowed
and tears in a cup, a toast;
crying copiously,
tempest runneth overflowed,
eyes swollen and soaked.
Dipped my toes
in the coast
of this ocean's
amorphous folds,
gripped by undertow
holding control of my soul;
swiftly shipwrecked in
shallow shoal,
an old atoll.
On sandy floor,
water burrows roads;
digging, carving, roams
through unmarrowed
silica and sandstone
eroding into a cove.
A host for
opal geode trove,
enclosing a
technicolor rose,
from the depths
a glowing mosaic shone
Unopened lotus floats
on foam
of lapping waves,
a boat;
prone to no
grandiose notion
or motive,
adrift as wind stokes.
I suppose
this only shows
the total corrosion
into which I dove,
the only foes to oppose
are those of burdens, so
only weightless can I atone-
I must let go.
Mar 11, 2024
Mar 11, 2024 at 11:02 AM UTC
A man went for a walk one day. He seemed to be searching for something as he hurried about, "Just a rock covered in dirt nothing special he says while he walks away".
A little girl walking down the same path carefully inspects each rock
She examines each one and than picks up the same rock that the man
had rejected.
She holds it in her hands lifts it up toward the sun and says," you may not look like much outside , but I have a feeling that your true worth lies within you".
She excitedly skips down the path and brings it home and proudly presents the rock to her father.
He carefully takes the rock and breaks it open and discovers the treasure that lies within, a geode that is sparkling like diamonds in the light.
In life people at times are too quick to judge according to appearances alone. They hurry through life seem to be searching for something but not taking time to discover what life has to offer us through one another. They might even perceive that another person is like dirt,and with that misconception they miss out in discovering another's true worth.
Upon closer examination they might discover that the other person has many great qualities and can become a treasured friend.
If only they would slow down and take the time to take a closer look so that they don't miss the hidden treasure that lies within.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
In the air, floating just next to the window
solidly constructed
as sure as the golden highway
stretching from Frisco across the Bay
looking square
as the acres of boxcars
north on the interstate
on the south side of Chicago,
it's all atoms...
This morning my son postulated to me a so-far unrealized condition
relating to matter transmitters and, probably, hyperspace. "What
would happen, " he asked, "if some guy transported himself inside a big rock?"
Indeed.
Putting on my ears, I considered the situation. Would the hypothetical solid mass of rock give way, shudder just enough to allow the insertion of a soft, squishy human being? Or would the spaces in their respective atoms--rock's and human's--intermesh neatly with each other? Molecular integration? But such a challenge to the atomic bonds holding the things together might result in a nasty atomic accident. Would that leave a human-shaped void inside the solid rock, a mold exact down to the finest details of skin texture and even eyelashes? Imagine the crystal-filled waters seeping down to find such a hole--Behold!! Geode Man.
Holding my silver pen extended
like a rapier before me,
I dissect the wispy chunks
of smoke. The balance of air
that gave them form
is destroyed. They are
no more.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 4:29 PM UTC
her soft skin shadows under lace
life traveling through telephone wires
their songs echo from worlds away
after toast and jam she ascends into the rain
i sit and wait for an answer
i watch
she makes small oceans on the bathroom tile
the soft rose towel a cape
wet curls hang loosely beneath her chin
and a drop of water above raw lips
eyes like a geode
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 11:13 AM UTC
I know all of the cuts and burns I've seen myself before.
I know all of the twists and turns. I've been down this road before.
Like a Geode, I have Crystals inside.
But on the outside, I'm like any other rock.
so how would you tell me a part from a stone.
I don't have a lot of self pride.
That shouldn't come as a shock.
I've always walked this road alone.
But I'm a Geode.
I'm a Geode.
Though you'd never know till you break me, and open me up.
only then will you see my crystal beauty.
when I'm in pieces and have had enough.
But there's no way of knowing a Geode from Rock.
You won't find out in time, No you won't hear it from the clock.
But if you love them you'll break them.
no matter how tough.
and you'll see the inside shell and if it shines.
You'll never find out if you don't cross any lines.
And it might be rough.
But they just might shine.
I read that Thunder Storms are formed from unstable air.
And I don't know,
I'm just taking some unstable breaths right now.
I didn't mean to start a Storm or anything frightening.
But oh well, Brace yourself. I'm not afraid of lightning.
It's only energy tween earth and sky.
Were all energy but were not as striking as lightning, though i don't know why.
Because We keep our beauty on the inside.
instead of being broken and exposed.
When you broke you chose to heal
we all do it has more appeal.
But why not expose ourselves.
Not every thorn has a rose.
not every rock is a Geode.
© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC
Redemption.
In a way, the geode is a symbol of redemption.
On the outside, it looks as if it has nothing.
It looks as if it will never contain anything worth smiling over.
However, if one were to break the stone.
If one were to shatter it.
Force it apart.
One would find the shiny array of crystals within.
And in this way, we are all simple geodes.
Holding small complicated things inside.
But it's good.
It's good to be complicated.
For one day, someone will see you in all your complex and confusing contradictory glory.
And they will think that in this sense,
in this one instance.
That you are the most beautiful thing they will ever witness.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 8:50 PM UTC
The polyp was benign according to the pathology report.
One of my poems was Published in the Lindberg Edition of the Sr. Perspective, April 2016. The story-poem is called Hidden Treasure, as it first appeared here on Hello Poetry.
Here it is below if you missed it:
Hidden Treasure
A man went for a walk one day. He seemed to be searching for something as he hurried about, "Just a rock covered in dirt nothing special he says while he walks away".
A little girl walking down the same path carefully inspects each rock
she examines each one and then picks up the same rock that the man
had rejected.
She holds it in her hands lifts it up toward the sun and says," you may not look like much outside, but I have a feeling that you’re true worth lies within you".
She excitedly skips down the path and brings it home and proudly presents the rock to her father.
He carefully takes the rock and breaks it open and discovers the treasure that lies within, a geode that is sparkling like diamonds in the light.
In life, people at times are too quick to judge according to appearances alone. They hurry through life, they seem to be searching for something but not taking time to discover what life has to offer us through one another. They might even perceive that another person is like dirt, and with that misconception they miss out in discovering another's true worth.
Upon closer examination they might discover that the other person has many great qualities and can become a treasured friend.
If only they would slow down and take the time to take a closer look so that they don't miss the hidden treasure that lies within.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 1:47 PM UTC
Geode, a Resemblance
by Michael R. Burch
Take this geode with its rough exterior—
crude-skinned, brilliant-hearted ...
a diode of amethyst—wild, electric;
its sequined cavity—parted, revealing.
Find in its fire all brittle passion,
each jagged shard relentlessly aching.
Each spire inward—a fission startled;
in its shattered entrails—fractured light,
the heart ice breaking.
Published by Poet Lore, Poetry Magazine and the Net Poetry and Art Competition. Keywords/Tags: Geode, amethyst, quartz, rock, stone, sequin, sequined, jagged, shard, brilliant, fire, passion, light, fission, ice
Mar 21, 2020
Mar 21, 2020 at 6:28 AM UTC
orb-castle
of a thousand purple mountains
waiting mellowly
to be cracked open
by the orc siege of eager witches
rock collectors
little kids
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
So much mystery
Hard to find
Beautiful
Yet fragile
On the surface
You cannot see
Devine shine
You have to seek
The deeper it gets
The more crystal clear
Its hidden beauty
Nothing to fear
Pretty to look at
But hard to hold
Is it a woman
Or is she a Geode ?
Nov 9, 2018
Nov 9, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
debt
decoupaging blank pages
rental gender neutron geode
prism lecture thick mental rich
debt
navigate gate that 9.8 meters/sec
navel undressed coated with sweat
leftover *** **** carpet hot steadfast
yea same and how about all the hair??
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 3:26 AM UTC
You know how when you break open
some rocks you find crystal?
My heart is like that
break it open and you will find
all my love for you
I'm like a geode
I seem ugly and hollow at first
but after you break me apart
you will see all the treasure in me
that was hidden on the surface
Only now it is no longer yours
every touch from then on
turns my crystals to rust
one shard at a time
A geode turned to coal
for the next heartbreak
to reveal my hidden gold
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 1:04 PM UTC
---
@@
@@ you @@
@@ trew out @@
@@ his heart like @@
@@ a stone clogging your @@
@@ green field of dreams @@
@@ i found it cracked open on @@
@@ my yellow brick road @@
@@ wouldn't you know @@
@@ it was an amethyst @@
@@ GEODE @@
@@
Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC
A perfect apple with just the right amount of juice, crunch, and ****
The bare branches of a large tree silhouetted against a cloudless, starry night in the winter.
The feeling of a brand new, sharp pencil flowing out words onto a blank page from my soul.
Mentally and physically handicapped people who go through life happy.
Saving someone's life.
A good healthy crying session.
A freshly opened geode.
The smell of a new book's pages.
The dip between the eyes and the cheekbones.
A song that gives you goosebumps.
A small child's hand wrapping tightly around my finger.
A cottage with morning glories climbing up one side.
A crown of leaves and flowers.
Going on a photography adventure during the Golden Hour, when the perfect light makes everything look beautiful.
The mist rising off of a lake in the early hours of a cold morning.
The feeling after a good haircut when your head is lighter and free.
A really well-done smokey-eye.
People with scars like mine.
Him when he's sleeping next to me.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 9:45 PM UTC
You are the first person
whose **** left me with a mouthful of flowers,
flowers of flesh and blood, our shell
a garden I nurture
reap, sow, *** and I know I can recover
as long there are babycurls on the back of your neck
riding piggy back
they are a peacock tail between my thighs.
You are the first person
that made me believe I could climb in a geode,
maybe meadows are not magic after all
just maybe things grow beautifully when fostered
as I am now,
touched by the thought that I may not be safer
alone and that drinking up an ocean
will not help me discover what I am missing.
You are the first person
to read books about plants falling in love,
just as long as butterflies kiss their babycurl vines.
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
I.
Ive been eavesdropping on the autophobe;
my boyfriend doesn't believe in ghosts, doesn't see the dirt on my shoes.
He wants me to get myself off, to break out the winter blankets.
II.
My companion candied her scalp, says she quit using ******
because it messes with her complexion.
I think thats like riding a bike, like going back a few years and
falling in love with your dads mechanic.
III.
Someone coughs up a lung, prays like hell for a sign, for a clean bill of health.
You are an amateur prospector, found a geode cave deep in my stomach, split it open.
Twin hickies near the knees; my boyfriend tells me to forget
about alien abductions, to quit picking up the strays i find at buick city.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
Memories of bruises
Velvet fit for kings
In the petals of a pansey
Oily sheen of raven's wings
The inside of a geode
Tanzanite in rarest form
The color of a baby's face
Right after it is born
It is the color indgo
To red violet of wine
Tracing stormy sunsets or
Boganvilla vines
Plums and grapes
remind one
Of purple's strange appeal
The color of great bravery
A wound which finally heals
Whatever your mentality
This collage of purple hues
Is simply a mixture of
The colors red & blue
SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/2/2017
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 8:39 AM UTC
Days have ventured by
haphazard-quick
but nevertheless captious
opinionated as a castrated casuist
numb but brain-ready over-drive
constant thickened thoughts
for the next fix...
Whatever city you befriend
whatever your home,
boulevard far or closer Strip
or Suburbia ever-green
she is easy to find
anyone looking
a dirge in their eyes...
As much as one
would like to disappear
with sniffing silence that comes
when the nose itches white wishes
or lungs
burn to breathe
cacophony...
Days will drag on
insect insidiously
all the while, she waits
to enliven Saturday night conversations
becomes geode-gibberish
gladness
from a tunnel of a dollar bill
a straw
she knows / she stands in
whatever city you befriend
whatever your home
she speaks your dry tongue
a language that weeps
escapism
embolism...
She is very forgiving:
the space between numb
& living.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
I said you are
the purple veins of an orchid
quickening footsteps
mist clinging to pines
the dip in the waltz
a geode cleaved in two
tunnels thrumming their pulse
hitched breath
lungfuls of winter wind
the dusty burn of smoke two streets over
an invasion of fireflies
fields with moonlight beating down
pollen-ridden light
I said you are
picnics caught in the rain
and petals in the hair
stones glistening at low tide
and Vivaldi
sound waves from outer space
and ink smeared palms
a warm shoulder in the dark
and the snap of a wind-ruffled sail
heart pounding
and movement
I said you are
crystalline
rooted yet rootless
atomic, ultraviolet,
ineffable
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 5:10 PM UTC
this little piece of amethyst
was from a geode broke,
and now, beheld, it calmly sits
as if it were bespoke.
between my palms, my hands betwixt,
the stars are enveloped,
and thereupon my eyes are fixed:
a universe of hope.
Sep 11, 2020
Sep 11, 2020 at 3:11 AM UTC
Falling apart from a height
Laying shattered on the ground
Broken shards reflecting light
Casting myriads of hues all around
Is it only then do we realize how beautifully broken we are?
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
Attempt to shine
flickering figurative klieg light
with the help of hyperbole
on poverty wrought
debutante material, this predicated
on my own unbiased thought
initially related during
my early boyhood,
how many countless
bachelor beaus sought
to pledge their troth,
who hailed (strictly
for purposes of this poem)
from Pennsauken,
Perth Amboy, Penobscot,
but thee essential truth ought
to be gleaned (lodged
as like some precious gem
within geode, qua Harriet Kuritsky,
who oft times recounted her
personal anecdotal information)
underlying veritable truth, I allude
means to underscore
how thine late mum
as the "baby" of her family
wore mantle of exclusive favoritism,
sans donning beautiful clothes
perfectly cared for,
coiffed, and curled hair
(think Shirley Temple)
as her older sisters brewed
festered, and steeped with jealousy,
asper me mother receiving
lion's share of blatant favoritism
all the while said long since
deceased maternal aunts got exclude
did from requisite
(shut heard textbook case) maternal love,
hence within their cerebral hood
incubated, evolved, and flourished
emotional disease affliction
with changeable mood
and thee Aunt Ruth oblivious,
while pacing hallway in the ****
whereat verbally abuse sent
both aunts to mental institution
insanity didst the
ultimate discordant prelude
resulting viz lifetime
of baleful, hateful, shameful,
and worthless venom got spewed,
hence no surprise
rabid mailer daemons
courted, thus psychosis easily wooed.
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 4:11 PM UTC
Cupped in the belly of my palm
this grit-ridden
hand-held cave you gave me
right at three years
appearing on the outside like pale skin
after leaving sunscreen an oil spill in the pool
and burning
patchy and bronze
although I took silver
each time your voice rose a flame
in the gust of its crescendo
the gemmed insides of this Earth piece
looking too much like the shards of glass
that would explode iridescent
in fist-fights with paper walls
fragments gleaming like ice crystals
daring their toes over the edge of a roof
leaving accident’s name a mosaic of wine
all over the floor
and my jaw hung open
as wide as the geode’s
only its jagged teeth shimmer
rather than break
when in opposition with force.
This rock-body knows rock-bottom
replacing softer limbs
that had once retired themselves
like scissors that fit right in with my hands.
I am trying to relive a good day
the beach right before my eyes
this jewel-thing beaming white under the licks of the sun
glimmering like the salt of sand
and solstice iced over the delicacy of sea itself
reminding me for the last time
of when you were nice.
I swing my arm behind my back
and give this geode a fair chance to sprout bird wings and fly
make its place
amongst all other
shiny ocean fixtures.
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 1:29 AM UTC