Graham Stone

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

Graham Stone Poems

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

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

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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