Graham Stone

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

Graham Stone Poems

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

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

The Regret Of Regretting

only now does the sun come,
Only now do the scales melt
From my hand
Like gleaming frost in the morning light
Perhaps now, when it does not matter,
Can I stand.

Read the full of The Regret Of Regretting

How The Light Gets In

(Acknowledgment of a Faceless Angst)

The sky wallows through a broken blue,
Bruised only by the silhouettes of hanging clouds,
Which sit so sad along the night’s fading breath,
In whispered rasps of rattled death,
That provides the earth a squally shroud.

How the light gets in, I do not know.

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