River Stone Poem by Daniel Y.

River Stone



Beaten ‘round its river home,
the icy current on its bone.
Resting shade of passing icthus,
does nothing for its deepest wishes.

No one knows the river stone.
Never plucked from its home.
Until a fisher steps on it,
and moves it from its final fit.

Fingers come and cut the mirror.
greyed-eyes whisper to the hearer.
Deaf hands then skipped a pence,
and it has found a new home since.

Never is the ending done,
we stones never know who will come.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Roseann Shawiak 09 March 2014

Your poem brought to mind, my sons when younger and we'd take them fishing. They'd always discover a beautiful rock and place it in their pockets to bring home with them. They didn't throw them because that would scare the fish away! Have written a few poems on rocks, stones, pebbles, love looking at them below the water. Great poem. Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn

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Daniel Brick 03 March 2014

A Sonnet on the River Stone! I've never listened to the fate of a rock before, although I studied geology for a full year in college. (When I used the word stone in class, the teacher corrected me. We have rocks and minerals, no stones. Ever since then, I don't use the word stone.) You aptly animate the rock as a character, and give it a history. I like the way you did this without resorting to a weak personification. The rock retains its integrity as a natural object throughout. If I'm reading this right, someone tosses the rock to its strange new home at the end.

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