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30 thoughts on “small stone Day Twenty-Six

  1. John Oliver

    X on My Calendar

    My black marker makes a daily X on my wall calendar.

    I like to know at a glance where I am in context of the month.
    Days and weeks seem to blur together.
    This simple action makes time become my personal graphic.

    Rationally I know each day has 24 hours.
    But emotionally time seems to change pace.
    Some days and weeks seem faster than others.
    That steady addition of another X is my objective pace car.

    The truth is the time marches slowly forward.
    The clock never stops or goes backward.
    I know this in my mind.
    Yet my calendar with the rows of Xs makes time tangible for me.

    The marked Xs represent my history and those units are DONE.
    The one box at the front of the Xs is TODAY for focusing my attention.
    All those blank boxes beyond today are units with pure possibilities.

    One day will be my last day.
    SO how will I best use this day?

  2. puffofsmokepoems

    The whole morning is the color of a stone, not one remarkable thing. Then, across the grey road ahead, an 18-wheeler passes. His name in color letters 5 feet high. Evergreen.

  3. johncroxon

    The crisp whiteness is going
    brilliant blue
    cornfield gold
    turn winter into spring
    emerald green shoots
    appear in an empty space

  4. Robbie Burton

    Snow creaks and crunches
    and builds on the toecaps
    of my wellies. By the time
    I reach your gravestone
    they’re carrying two stacks
    of emptied cloud.

  5. Laurie Granieri

    The cold rushes its nervous fingers around me as I step from the front door, and the touch is so desperate I think the outside has been lonely these bone-cold, cold-as-stone days. We are hiding from the elements, the streets are empty and the elements miss us something awful.

  6. estrella05azul

    When the smooth, very thin batter meets the heat of the pan it sizzles with delight.
    When the edge all around starts curling up it jumps in a start to swivel around in midair; it lands back with a thump.
    When this deliciousness fills my taste buds, it reminds me of the authenticity of delicate French crêpes I once had.

  7. Claire Zoghb

    Day blushes herself awake —
    her pastel glow spreading
    above the airport runway
    up and over the hill
    our barren yard the park
    down to the harbor
    to find her reflection
    ringed with ships visiting
    from the world
    tugs tanks of heating oil
    the gestating bridge

  8. Anonymous

    (Six Word Saturday)

    Day 26

    My daughter’s ringtone –
    A welcome interruption.

    – Maureen Bailey

  9. Mlissabeth

    Sometimes it is so much nicer to see the “likes” on a blog, than to just look at the stats. When you see that, you know exactly who has been here, and to whom to return the favor. Of course, comments are even better, but they take a lot of time when you want to visit a lot of blogs.

  10. Anonymous

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  11. sleepwriter

    The moon wears a rusty halo, enduring as a stain, despite the cyclone-nudged scudding clouds that slide across her curves.

  12. Cindy Bene

    Two inches of snow accumulated through the night.
    It makes a squeaky, crunchy sound as I walk to the barn.
    The goats seem perfectly content to stay inside and munch hay.

  13. Wilma

    Stevie Ray plays in the background,
    the moon dances in the fore.
    I’m stuck in the middle – there is no better place.

    bad writing mojo yesterday. the one below is revised.

    seried mountain ridges,
    painted flat;
    each a paler shade of grey
    against a sky of faintest rose.

  14. Larry Piper

    The old man in the video
    sits on a bench, smoking a pipe,
    noticing the comings and goings
    in his little part of the world.
    His mindfulness enables him to corroborate, or not,
    the alibis of those he sees passing by,
    earning himself a pint or two in the bargain.

  15. Renee


    cobblestones begin to
    rise to the surface
    pushing away asphalt
    used to cover them to
    make way for another
    age industrial and new

    © 2013 Renee Espriu

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