I drop like a stone
and become a smash
smacking deepening slow
to click and clash on the stones
others threw, or have thrown
through the years.
At the base of this pond,
there's a cairn for tears
or for wishes, or whims
so many stones skipped
over surfaces bright or dull,
dim, splash-tripped in a casual
arcing lob or a hard-flung
toss. There are different techniques
and no loss
So I drop like a stone
and become a smash
splashing out to a ripple,
a wave, to crash on the farthest shores
past horizons unplanned
at least it seems so
from here, where I stand.
I wrote this poem then forgot to publish it!
ReplyDeleteThere's some arhythmic dissonance--no. Try again.
There's some jumble and slip in the third stanza's meter - DELIBERATE.
Whether it works or not IS equally valid in the call of EACH individual. I am adamant about this: my judgment does not, cannot overrule or outrank the judgment of any individual in the matter or effect of a poem of mine.
We are each-all-own equal in judgment. That’s a demonstrable fact, but I digress