"goldstone" poems
Hanging from hooks on display,
Are chains with special charms on the ends.
Some are preserved nature,
Like the tiny mushroom surrounded by grass,
Or the dead butterfly with no legs,
And the resin heart of a purple flower.
Some are crystals,
Like the tiger’s eye pendant,
The beads of blue goldstone,
Or the pendulum of smoky quartz,
And the agate that looks like a purse.
Some are special and connected to memories,
Like the golden locket from a date,
Or the silver snowflake from an aunt,
The green Buddha,
And the gold Buddha both from my grandmother.
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 5:24 PM UTC
You picked
A blue bloodstone
When you were younger.
You didn't know what it was,
You probably still don't.
You gave it to me
Along with a dyed blue agate.
It's funny,
Don't you think?
Bloodstone was worn by warriors
Into battle
Because they were of the school of thought
That it would aid in healing wounds more rapidly,
And that it would heal the mind as well.
So I wear it in a spiral cage
On a chain around my neck,
Hoping to hone that healing light-energy,
So that I may heal and be healed in turn.
Blue Goldstone
Is what I'm giving to you.
It provides protection against any type of harm,
And it will light your path from all things frightening.
People of Norse, Irish, and Germanic decent
Used to give it to their children
Who feared the dark.
Please,
Take the crystallized galaxy
Within it's spiral cage,
And come home to me,
Safe and sound.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 8:22 AM UTC
I wear the blue bloodstone you gave me
Around my neck,
Locked away in a spiral cage.
But your eyes shimmer
And shine
In the darkness.
And you have galaxies in your eyes,
So I guess it's fitting
That what I give you in turn,
Has galaxies trapped inside it.
I know
I am terribly difficult to love.
And I know
I am terribly easy to leave.
But you're it.
You're all I need.
And I hold the cold
Dyed agate you gave me in my hand
Until the stone gets warm
From what little body heat
I have to give.
I can only pray
That you'll come home
Safe and sound
With lots of love for me,
Because I know when you come home
I'll have lots of love
To give you.
I keep cutting out
Pieces of myself
To give
Everyone else,
Expecting to receive the love
I so desperately try to give.
Hoping someone
Somewhere
Will finally stay.
But Frost said
Nothing gold can stay.
And maybe I was wrong.
And maybe he was actually right.
Feb 2, 2017
Feb 2, 2017 at 5:53 PM UTC
At first glance, the stone seemed an ordinary thing.
Its surface smoothed with age, the edges and geometric shape seemingly unerring.
It was neither square nor round nor pyramidal, but more closely resembling a trapezoidal figure.
It had lips and valleys, edges and crevices. It was, without further inspection, a simple dark rock.
But, this was no ordinary stone.
If scrutinized, it could be seen...
Millions of shining fragments just beneath the surface, disappearing and appearing, flickering in and out of sight when tilted different ways.
This too could be explained away.
It was only an unrefined piece of blue goldstone, right?
Not so, for it was only upon the closest investigation that its true nature could be seen: when intently inspected, when held in just the right light, it seemed to fill the entire room with stars.
In this light, you held an entire universe in the palm of your hand.
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 11:15 PM UTC