Friday, November 7, 2014

Turn the pebble in your hand

Poetry Jam
Pebbles


PEBBLES AND SHELLS

Walk the beach
   feel the sand
       let the waves talk
          turn the pebbles in your hand
smell the air
see what is there
what do you feel
breath…breath deep!

make this freedom real
Pebbles have history to reveal

21 comments:

  1. I love to pick up a smooth pebble and keep it in my pocket when out for a walk on the beach there is something soothing about the feel of them.

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    1. soothing and relaxing and a must do thing

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  2. I can feel the pebble in my hand.
    Lovely

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    1. where ever we live we can feel small stones and find comfort

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  3. Step by step each word makes one come face to face with the vastness even a tiny pebble has such an infinite saga behind its existence...beautiful Rae Ann...

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  4. So true -- there is so much history in pebbles! The idea of breathing deep is exhilerating.

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    1. pebbles seem to help on the breathing in of the air we need to relax

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  5. Your poem feels like a fresh walk on the beach.

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  6. Lovely to stroll along the sea with you !

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    1. we all need to walk togeather there and listen to the water and pebbles

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  7. Going through your in the morning luckily. It is quite refreshening!

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  8. Very nice...the sea has witnessed all of life on earth's
    history

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  9. Short, sweet & simple :)
    Pebbles do have their own stories...

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  10. Wonderful rhyme in this - particularly the finishing couplet. Love the turning of pebbles in your hand. That for me, is like holding a bit of geological eternity - as well as, the sweetest of that moment, on the beach, when you plucked it from the sand. Magic!

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  11. Enjoyed the walk! Thanks!
    When I go to the beach (which is pretty frequently here) I pick up pebbles, feel them, study them and carry them for a while; then, usually, I toss them back to their friends before I leave.

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  12. Indeed, each pebble has a different story to tell... I enjoyed this, Rae Ann.

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  13. Pebbles are each their own story aren't they? And so interesting how one will call out to us to be picked up, whioke another we pass over. A beautiful poem :-)

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