Stately Stones
these old stone walls go on for miles on end
all gathered from the breast of stubborn soil
then winter frost doth make stones rise again
then laid up line on line – long walls of toil
demarking what is yours from what is mine
all gathered from the breast of stubborn soil
made comely both by moss and crawling vine
these stately stones the paeans of poet’s pens
demarking what is yours from what is mine
I love to sit upon them now and then
in silence hear the wind and nature’s song
these stately stones the paeans of poet’s pens
these walls, the hem, to patchwork fields belong
“good fences make good neighbors” quoth Robert Frost
in silence hear the wind and nature’s song
the wisdom of his words on none is lost
of old stone walls that go for miles on end
“good fences make good neighbors” quoth Robert Frost
a diff’rent frost doth make stones rise again














Comments: 53
Thanks for sharing with Gather's Luminous Writers and Artists. Featured and tweeted.
Don't ever think otherwise... (Yes...that is an order!) :)
THANK YOU FOR SHARING AT SURREAL CIRCUS!
But, sometimes I just do not have adequate words to submit ... I often just leave a :) when I enjoyed a piece or it actually brought a smile to lighten up my face. It is an acknowledgement of that. Or of you personally, the author.
By no means is is meant to be just a generic statement. Just like - I don't smile for any reason all the time & I don't talk for any reason likewise. That is me.
If I desired to get into a 'comment' & not just be 'pencil whipping it' (or keyboard whipping it) I truthfully would. I am not a poet & I am not moved by all poetry. As much as I may like a piece - it does not reach me the same ALL the time.
Please excuse me again - I will try to be more thoughtful & more considerate.
You didn't offend me...exasperate is closer to the truth. We are moderators. Lets give them what they deserve. You may not like the content. So what. What are we ...in high school? Our job it to keep them writing..make them feel appreciated. You can't tell me that if you DID write poetry, and posted it here, you wouldn't want the same. Why do you direct everyone here to your website? Because you're proud of it. There is something thrilling about seeing you work there, posted for all the world to see. Even more thrilling is a compliment. You know this. I know this. That is the role we fill.
Even though I must state that I don't moderate or gauge my own works on others opinions - it is what it is. But, I do understand we are not all the same & likewise ... THIS communication of such 'comments' has changed my perspective in behalf of others. Of which, I thank you kindly!
And Ann, that is a lovely comment you added ... see, I don't really realize the impact of my comments. Now, because dear ppl like you & Stephen have shared from your heart ... I can now show my heart in a clearer portrayal.
Thanks for your wonderful comments.
Your poem does very well in furnishing our imaginations with the full story of your stones, their origins in the bosom of the earth, into the hands that placed them into the wall, the living things that cling to them, the poet that saw their worth, and the other poet that took it all in, ruminated as he sat upon it, and turned it all into this marvelous terzanelle. Bravo.
At any rate, this poem references Frost and astutely so. Did you read some of Frost before writing this? I certain was aware of his flavor with your work here.
Featured at Mindful Poetry!
I do read Robert Frost and have read the poem about the stone walks from which I gleaned the quote, but I haven't read him lately.
Thank you for commenting and for the feature. Life is looking up. Thank you.
Also, the ONE comment that passed through my head after reading this, I neglected to add: a stunning poem. This one reminds me of the fluid verse you wrote last year as you claimed winner with Granny Janny's poetry contest. *That* poem was memorable, too.
You are quite the ambassador for us Gather poets!
Steve, you have at least two poems that belong on my blog. This is one of them.
Carpe' diem.