This week let’s write a pebble poem. They’re frequently underfoot, sometimes painfully so, but they still deserve poetry. Polish your pebble into a diamond and post it in the comments below.
Living Poetry
A group of poets and poetry readers.
Monday Poetry Prompt: Pebble
Living Poetry 
Upon a second look
those pebbles look like potatoes
small red new potatoes
boil them whole
add butter and parsley
always a winning side dish
but don’t serve whatever is in that picture
unless you want to make the dentist rich
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Posted by JeanMarie | September 1, 2021, 1:29 AMHa! But what about stone soup?
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | September 1, 2021, 7:20 PMWe eat the metaphor silly. Not the pebble.
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Posted by JeanMarie | September 2, 2021, 1:21 AMFinally got around to posting my pebble poem:
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | August 27, 2021, 8:05 PMBartholomew – Couldn’t resist! 😊
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Posted by GypsieWolf2014 | August 24, 2021, 7:23 PMThank you so much Cassa! 😊
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Posted by amio1958 | August 24, 2021, 12:58 AMRipples
Tiny chunks of prehistoric Earth rest beneath our feet
Tread upon day by day without an moments relief
What if we looked down one day
To see the pebbles washed away
What then would lay beneath our heels
Ancient rock hard as man-made steel
Before a pebble came to be
A cobble predates its history
Prior to that and before mankind
Earths crust did shake and it did grind
To break away these giant chunks
Or push straight up in massive hunks
That solid rock with many names
Mineral quartz from the Thames
Sandstone to lava-stone to flint stone more
No not Fruity Pebbles from the grocery store
Pebbles they hold the Earths time line
Geologists search years for a sign
A mark a scratch an unknown scroll
Left upon a rock within a knoll
They say that each and every stone
Upon the land and sea where thrown
Formed ripples over and through the land
Leading to the birth of man
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Posted by amio1958 | August 23, 2021, 11:59 PMThis is a finely polished piece of poetry. It reads in great rhythm. I enjoy it very much!
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Posted by Cassa Bassa | August 24, 2021, 12:29 AMNice work. I nearly laughed aloud at the Flintstones reference.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | August 24, 2021, 7:11 PMIt was a small thing
that slipped into my sock
when I was running
carefree
in the wash
it lingered and rubbed
I, too busy to stop and see
what this roughness was doing
to my tender leg
later I caught a glimpse
of crimson through the cotton
brighter than any stop sign
and stop I did to inspect
the damage such a wonder had caused
not smooth like a pearl
but bloody and jagged
it fell to the ground
as my ocean leaked through
the retaining walls of my body
dark crusted iron surrounding
the scarlet of fresh heme
stuck to formerly white sock
as I pull it away
that pebble was probably
420 billion years old
when it caused that wound
scar still visible to this day
a warning to me
to be aware of little things
that most would try to ignore
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Posted by Chris Clarke | August 23, 2021, 10:44 PMExcellent metaphor and I loved the “ocean leaking through the retaining walls” lines. Well done.
But the astronomer in my must correct your estimated age of the pebble. Probably should change the billions to millions since the universe is less then 14 billion years old.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | August 23, 2021, 11:12 PMWhat a good metaphor…the little thing we often ignore..
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Posted by Cassa Bassa | August 24, 2021, 12:27 AMOops.. I know better than that!
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Posted by Chris Clarke | August 24, 2021, 8:07 AMSaw Plymouth rock on holiday
Not a pebble but smoothed by the sea
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Posted by Catherine Penafiel | August 23, 2021, 7:17 PMIt’ll be a pebble someday. Nicely done.
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | August 23, 2021, 7:48 PMhttps://wordpress.com/read/feeds/92727461/posts/3515166683
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Posted by Cassa Bassa | August 23, 2021, 4:30 PMThe Pebble Drive
The school bus set her down
in lethargic sun
she ran the long pebble drive
excited like the popping corns
a delicious cool lemonade
made by grandma’s loving hand
was her reward
In the deep of the night
whatever beautiful dream she was in
would be woken up by
the sound of her father’s car
rolling in the long driveway
like broken eggshells crashing
into shattered glass
she hid underneath the bed
clutching her teddy bear
but that night
there were lights
and many set of footsteps
she saw her drunken father’s rage
no more
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Posted by Cassa Bassa | August 23, 2021, 4:22 PMOh my! It’s starts so innocent. What a gut punch. Well done!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | August 23, 2021, 7:09 PMWhat if The Princess and the Pea
had been called The Princess and the Pebble
It would have been a rocky start
but what a twist
for a spine tingling adventure
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | August 23, 2021, 8:14 AMThrow a couple more pillows on the pile and it’d be perfect. Well done!
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Posted by Bartholomew Barker | August 23, 2021, 7:07 PMThank you!
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Posted by Lisa Tomey | September 5, 2021, 6:07 PM