.
The stones will tell
.
The stones will tell. Tell their stories to you, tell them to me.
Listen closely to their chatter,
not unlike the proverbial seashell's whispering.
So then, tell us of your origin, where you were born,
who was your daddy.
Tell us of your birth like none of us humans can.
Will you relate to a celebrity,
or to the hobo who sleeps under the tree.
.
Tell us of your learning,
an experience void of the books and computers.
Have you had an experience of romance?
Or are you hard sterile beings devoid of desire to love and propagate.
Do you have family?
Are there peals of children's laughter ringing in your ears?
Is there pride of family and kin?
Heritage beckons, be it Irish, German, or African, is that what you tell?
.
Tell us, was your growing up, as we suspect, a process of division?
A part here, another there.
Where are those parts, sitting on a mountain high,
lolling on the seas' edges somewhere,
or buried under tons of fertile earth?
Will they remember their days with you, can they tell?
Tragic separation for you, how was it for them?
Will you ramble on of those offspring with your friends?
And will you publish, tell your tales with us on Monday mornings?
.
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- - - - - -
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Photos and Poem Copyright © 2014 Jimmiehov. All Rights Reserved
.
Linked today with the Real Toads, Open Link Mondays with Marian
.
Note:
The top picture shows the river rock bed surrounding our home. This view is off the back porch, the dog is Katrin, our French toy poodle.
The bottom picture has five rocks that I collected on my travels. In the center is a lava rock I found near the base of Mount St. Helens shortly after its eruption in May 1980. The four rocks encircling it I found in a river bed when we traveled west beyond the blue horizon in 2001. The four are very bright and pretty when wet. Labels: Open-Link-Mondays, Poem, prose poem, Real Toads
