Graham Stone

Rookie - 20 Points (19/1/90 / birmingham (England))

Graham Stone Poems

1. Rain Upon A Window's Glass 4/15/2009
2. Rolling Past 4/15/2009
3. Roots I Onced Spied Clinging To A Soiled Gutter 4/15/2009
4. A Wind Of Life 4/15/2009
5. Passive Thing 4/15/2009
6. War Machine 4/15/2009
7. Where Melancholy Lies 4/15/2009
8. Doppelganger 4/16/2009
9. Hate You 4/16/2009
10. Feckless 4/16/2009
11. An Idle Musing 4/15/2009
12. Bitter Berries 4/15/2009
13. Dead Fag-Ends In The Snow 4/15/2009
14. How The Light Gets In 4/15/2009
15. Landscape Bereft 4/15/2009
16. Incandescent 4/18/2009
17. Refraction 4/18/2009
18. Carcass 4/18/2009
19. A Poisoned River 4/15/2009
20. Saying Goodbye To David 4/25/2009
21. Your Stop 4/28/2009
22. The Grimy Cupboard Of An Art Class 5/6/2009
23. Train Of Thought 5/7/2009
24. The Beggar's Scapegoat 5/26/2009
25. Smile 6/1/2009
26. Flesh And Burns 7/5/2009
27. A Dictionary Full Of Words 9/14/2009
28. The Common Man 9/14/2009
29. Discord 2/25/2010
30. Against The Wall 10/25/2010
31. Petty Games 1/22/2011
32. The Burning Glass 1/22/2011
33. The Peace In Sleep 3/31/2011
34. Lines Extracted From A Dream 10/31/2009
35. Drag And Spit 5/27/2012
36. Summer's Ponder 7/28/2013
37. The Regret Of Regretting 9/16/2009
38. As The Crow Clawed The Earth 10/14/2010
39. My Cat 4/15/2009
40. Grinning Wound 4/18/2009

Comments about Graham Stone

  • Meghan - (3/9/2007 2:35:00 AM)

    I love your writing. Every single poem I read I liked. I can identify with alot of the themes and opinions you have, your writing is truly something unique, not to mention for your age. Look forward to reading more.

    Meghan

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Best Poem of Graham Stone

A Dirty Toy

I see it, the dead dirty doll
There between the sleepers of tracks,
And the creepers of weeds
I see it with its weathered cracks,
A deadening perhaps, of some child’s luckless dream.

I see it, stained with filth and rain
Some rag of fabric clung about its chest
With knees grazed by the passing train
Faded plastic, warped and stressed.

Some child I think loved it once
And must have cursed the day she let it go
But more I think in natural cruelty she threw it
To watch with curious guilt it crushed by the train below.

I think that dirty doll, ...

Read the full of A Dirty Toy

An Idle Musing

Can you bring a conscious face to the mirror?
Is it swollen when you see it?
Is it aghast, agape with shock or love?
What stares back at you when you look?

In my house, there are no mirrors.
Just my distorted doppelganger in the window’s glass.

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