Lunchline Metaphysics

His smile dies unseen
by You’re Being Served By Eve

though he’s loved her
each lunch break,
in a year full
of lunch breaks–

one more lonely sapling
in a nondescript forest

where he knows should he fall
he won’t even make a sound.

Ryan Stone

It’s quadrille Monday at dVerse and today’s prompt is Sound Off!

Coal Town

It’s open link night at dVerse tonight, so I thought I’d repost an older poem for the occasion.

Coal Town

Birds don’t stop in this town.
I see them fly past, black peppering
blue, going someplace. I’ve given up
dreaming wings. This town
will know my bones. Condoms
sell well in Joe’s corner store – boredom breeds
but breeding’s a trap, a twitch in the smile
of those steel-eyed shrews
who linger late after church.
I walked half a day, out past the salt flats,
after they closed the movie house down. Smoked
the joint she’d brought back from college
when she returned to bury my dad.
I remember how pale her fingers lay
across my father’s hands –
coal miner’s hands, tarred like his lungs;
like this town.

Ryan Stone

First published in Eunoia Review, July 2016.

Winner of the Goodreads Monthly Poetry Contest, August 2016.

First Place in Poetry Nook contest 101, November 2016.

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My Love

-blazon after Woloch

My love with her chocolate river of tresses,
Her slow-flowing curls, polished mahogany.
My love with her lips of tequila sunrise
With her milky-skinned sin, spreading wildfire blush.
My love with her hummingbird voice
Her windswept dune song, her soul
strumming hum
My love with her eyes of moonstone and twilight,
Her mysterious eyes of long tide pool shadows
My love with her willow tree frame
With her star-dappled thighs, soft gossamer down.
My love with her lotus bloom tongue,
Her narcotic tongue tracing spirals through midnight,
My love with her deep-desert wellspring,
To which I stumble, broken and parched.

Ryan Stone

Posted at dVerse Poets Pub – Poetics: Sensory Play

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Stillborn

Although science, with clinical wisdom
declared her not yet a person,
a heartbeat argued defiantly
for a night.

We visit the cemetery —
hands entwined, minds
in different hemispheres,
hearts mangled. In a quiet corner

where the sun lingers late in summer,
where gelid moans soften in winter,
we become broken pieces
of something once much stronger.

Ryan Stone

  

Stuff Most Cops Know

Lunacy lives in the full face of the moon,
blood has infinite shades of red. The perfect crime
doesn’t exist. Every contact leaves a trace.

When there’s nothing to gain, people can still be evil;
when there’s everything to lose, people may surprise you.
Occasionally there is honour among thieves.

There are multiple truths, perspective is all. Sometimes
there are only questions. Everyone has a price,
I’m not talking money. Life is unfair. Trust me

means don’t. The sins of one moment can reverberate
for a lifetime. Love is the very best
and worst of things.

Ryan Stone

For dVerse prompt, May 11, 2017 – a List Poem.

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Ravens

A hauntingly beautiful poem from my talented friend, Sarah Russell.
One small request – please leave comments and likes directly on Sarah’s blog.

Sarah Russell Poetry

The smartest man I know is dying –
cancer, spreading to his bones
and cruelly, to his brain.

“Come look back here,” he says when I visit.
“They knew even before I did.”
Six ravens walk – stately, slow, with purpose –
across his yard, an avian funeral cortège.
“They’ve been here since spring,” he adds.

He points to a corner near the fence.
“That one has a broken wing.
Got it robbing a blue jay’s nest.
Shouldn’t mess with jays, I told her.”

He feeds her raw chicken and steak but says he knows
that soon she’ll ask for death, and he’ll oblige.
“They won’t do the same for me,” he says.
“Fucking do-gooders.”
I don’t know what to say.

“When she’s gone, her fellows will have
a feast of her carcass,” he says without malice,
“just as they will with mine.”
I try to protest, but I know…

View original post 44 more words

The Long Road

I drink all day
and then strike out
along that winding road,
where shadows flit
by leafy bough
and twilight waits
for no-one;

where failing light
births fickle fiends
who writhe and tempt
the absent mind.
In deepen wood
where mildew clings
to night’s cool breath,
a parting kiss

for a season
long since flown.

Ryan Stone

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Falling Up

You will never fall in love with me.
Don’t try to convince me
That I will always wait for you.
If you really look, you’ll see
I’m not here for the long haul
Don’t imagine
You give me reason to stay.
When things get hard I’ll leave –
Don’t imagine
I’m not like the others,
Goodbye.
I’ll never say
I love you.

(Now read from bottom to top,
my bleeding heart undone.)

Ryan Stone

Click here for audio

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