Buy an expensive toy and see the child amuse himself for hours on end with the cardboard box it came wrappend with.
The fantasy of any child is triggered on high gear by the most, to adults, unexplainable things at hand.
Here is one of those...
When I was a little child...
I had a unique, of my very own!
a petrified caress between my hands,
that grownups insisted calling it a stone.
I put the red, and silky warmth to my face
to feel from summer, a kiss of love,
from the little pebble between my fingers,
a secret lover hiding in my room.
But angry one day, through the glass
of my window it went, why? I don't know,
maybe because I felt betrayed when my pebble
caressing other face than that of mine, I found.
I was a child then, a little things playing
with little things, which with, I play no more,
but I still remember, like a feather on my face,
the soft caress of that little stone.
I too had a stone...I found the stone I had on the bank of the creek, it was gray and smooth...I thought it was a lucky stone! I also have given stones to my students over the past years, for various reasons. One little girl kept her stone for the remainder of the year...she said it was her food luck stone, and her worry stone, when she was worried she rubbed her stone and felt better...enjoyed this much my friend.
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
Georg,
Wonderful memory for you and write! I think all of us can look back at our childhood and think of one particular item or toy we loved most. For me it was the swing in our backyard. I'd swing for hours on end. Thank you for sharing this with us, my friend.
I felt the feather strike my emotions through this excellent pen! You captured the part of you that needed to be...and always will!
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
Reviewed by LadyJtalks LadyJzTalkZone (Reader)
Reviewed on March 27, 2007
How many times in anger we throw away the very thing that brought us warmth. Lady J
A worry stone? A prayer stone? Perhaps: it brought you comfort. I remember having one, myself, and so I understand. Mine didn't go through the window, it disappeared....don't know where it went. Hadn't thought of it in years, until reading this...mine was a smooth black stone.
This is such a poignant and tender memory, Georg. It's a beautiful memory, and it's always such a pleasure to read your work.
As children, we found true pleasure in the most innocent of things. There was no rhyme or reason, only that it meant something important to us.
I can remember a family vacation to visit grandparents far away, when I was a child. After two days traveling in the car with all eight of us, we stopped at a beach (to get rid of some pent up energy) not too far from Grandma's. While playing on the beach, I found a tiny sand dollar. Mother told us a story about Jesus' image being on the sand dollar and tucked inside, was a dove of peace. That little sand dollar instantly became my most prized possession.
Thank you, Georg, for reminding me of this precious memory with your poem.
Love,
CJ
On February 20, 2003, pyrotechnics at a rock club in West Warwick, RI set off a devastating fire that roared through the crowded club, killing 100 people and injuring hundreds more. Gina Russo was one of the survivors, and she retells her harrowing e
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Be safe,
Karen
Blessings,
Joyce Bowling
Wonderful memory for you and write! I think all of us can look back at our childhood and think of one particular item or toy we loved most. For me it was the swing in our backyard. I'd swing for hours on end. Thank you for sharing this with us, my friend.
Many blessings,
~Linda
Love Tinka
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
An outstanding composition... "The Little Stone" presents the poemization of a nostalgic time ~ in rich imagery of poetic excellence.
Thank You for sharing Your art.
In admiration,
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
Michael
A worry stone? A prayer stone? Perhaps: it brought you comfort. I remember having one, myself, and so I understand. Mine didn't go through the window, it disappeared....don't know where it went. Hadn't thought of it in years, until reading this...mine was a smooth black stone.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
As children, we found true pleasure in the most innocent of things. There was no rhyme or reason, only that it meant something important to us.
I can remember a family vacation to visit grandparents far away, when I was a child. After two days traveling in the car with all eight of us, we stopped at a beach (to get rid of some pent up energy) not too far from Grandma's. While playing on the beach, I found a tiny sand dollar. Mother told us a story about Jesus' image being on the sand dollar and tucked inside, was a dove of peace. That little sand dollar instantly became my most prized possession.
Thank you, Georg, for reminding me of this precious memory with your poem.
Love,
CJ