Saying Hello
I am stonepoem, once known for writing internet poetry at stumbleupon. 365 poems written between 2004 and 2005, and then, no more*. This started as an experiment about documenting an existance in poetry and sharing verse with other poetry blogs and writers who had become online friends - but it has became so much more.
I hope you enjoy what I have written for you.
stone.
* that’s a lie now, because I’ve started writing again…
December 10th, 2005 at 10:03 pm
the world is delighted that you decided to share.
(inky)
December 29th, 2005 at 9:25 pm
I’m *so* happy to see this here.
I’ve missed you and your words!
M.x
January 1st, 2006 at 7:47 am
I love poetry, I was going to write 100 love sonnets, that were neither really about love, or sonnets, in the style of neruda for the girl I loved, then it turned out she wasn’t interested, so now I just write limericks.
Which is cool, I am really kinda good at them.
January 1st, 2006 at 6:13 pm
Awesome work stone!
Greets,
Marieke
January 3rd, 2006 at 3:46 pm
gosh it is good to see this mr. stone. yay!
January 12th, 2006 at 5:23 am
I noticed you on the PoertX site, just thought I’d follow your web link here to see what it was all about. I like your work, your words and your uniqueness. Anyways, thought I’d leave my thoughts with you, since I stopped on by to take a peak.
January 13th, 2006 at 10:20 pm
A chance connection, or have I been found by my double, or my self from another plane of space and time? What a puzzle! I seek more clues in these beautiful and mysterious poems.
February 3rd, 2006 at 11:34 am
The poet is dead
Long live the poet
Words are useless
Words change the world everyday
I am happy you exist
Courageous on
We all feel the sun
Glad to share it with you.
February 6th, 2006 at 2:24 pm
Why stop now? Keep going, keep writing… sing your song, you’re the only one who can. :)
March 4th, 2006 at 2:46 am
It’s beautiful.
I think this is the most raw place to feel on earth.
Thank you for breathing out this beauty.
March 12th, 2006 at 11:28 pm
Isnt it so that a poet is what you are?
Like being ,for instance, brown-eyed?
March 24th, 2006 at 1:17 am
It’s coming down….it’s coming down…you lie on the floor…she’s slamming your door…she’s gone, and she’s wearing your red sweater.
(Cake, Fashion Nugget)
April 17th, 2006 at 2:56 am
so nice
June 28th, 2006 at 4:01 pm
Bravo !!!!!
October 21st, 2006 at 12:22 am
I am so happy to rediscover your poetry, stone :o)
It’s a shame that in the time that I read your work on SU, I was too angry (as a result of forces that induced my breakdown) to really appreciate it.
But rediscovering it is a joy. Thank-you.
November 7th, 2006 at 1:38 am
Only Time Will Tell
Hello said the climatologist to the stone
Did you know Leonardo?
Well yes the stone replied,
His block was chipped off me.
You don’t mean da Vinci
Why of course, it was only yesterday
I remember as if it was tomorrow
in your time frame anyway, i.e.
ahead of me not behind you,
if I understand your question.
By the way, what is your concern
with Leonardo, I mean, do you believe
what you read in the here and now?
Am I talking to a stone, you sound
contemporary, like right now, how?
Stones can’t speak, they only listen,
What was it I said, say it again! Wow
I said that, how now of me. Allow
me to continue. I have such a good
story to tell and you are the first to
ask about what I cannot tell you.
It is secrets that I have to show
You study climate, weather records
I am one of those, but I have never
heard or seen one of yours before.
Once in a while some fool with a pick
will hammer on me for a bit. That
Leonardo fellow you asked about—
He was one of those narcissistic bores
who wanted to make everything in
his own image, even when kings
gave him money for his work. He
didn’t know a thing about what
a stone might think. Nor did he care.
That is what I want to know
what he really meant by what he left
unsaid, as it were, by not saying it
he keeps curious minds from knowing
what it was he did not question. He
was an iconoclast and never said
a peep about misjudgements or so
we understand from back handed
comments we submit to inspection.
Better left unknown. Let me speak
which I cannot do, but you will.
Together we can tell a story only
the dead could confirm or spill
embarrassing details to expose us.
I am become your title, Until
the Stones Reclaim Their Pieces.
But I asked about Leonardo
what has that to do with the end
rhymes of overkill, fulfill and instill?
Be still impetuous child, speak
so I can do what I will, listen.
Until you know poetry, old
stones are but rocks in your path.
Begin. I know the way, but you
must voice the secrets to be told.
Where do I look, what do I read?
My mind is not in touch with
Touch, senses do not matter, the
eyes fool you into thinking see
Knowing is nothingness, hearing
is nothing less than being d on key.
December 15th, 2006 at 11:00 am
* that’s a lie now, because I’ve started writing again…
You never actually stopped, dear. :o)