The Wind Whispers, The Wind Sighs

– after Longfellow

The wind whispers, the wind sighs,
The dawn light brightens, a magpie cries;
Amongst the gum trees tall and green
A girl becomes a faerie queen,
And the wind whispers, the wind sighs.

Morning settles beneath silk skies,
Her reign flits by like dragonflies;
Deep shadows dress the naked hill
At dusk, her faerie wings fall still,
And the wind whispers, the wind sighs.

Night throws a cloak; a barn owl cries,
Another answers, stars blink their eyes.
The queen is gone, won’t come again;
The woods forever will remain,
And the wind whispers, the wind sighs.

– Ryan Stone

first published at Poetry Nook, May 2020

He Who Fights Monsters

I won’t survive this dark night’s lunacy.
Waves smash against the fortress of my mind
with an endless ebb and flow of misery—
I’m drowning in a Labyrinth I designed.

No compass, satnav, Valium can save
me here, where even stars are scared to shine.
To a shifting siren’s song I am enslaved,
drawn down beyond the high-tide line.

Battered by winds strong as Minotaurs
my hull is breached beyond my skill to caulk.
I drift on wings of wax, then on all fours
crash land where none but monsters walk.

Light glints on broken glass, at last I see!
There’s no abyss but this one in me.

first published at Poetry Nook, September 2019

I Lost Summer Somewhere

I love this review of the recently released collection of poetry by my talented friend, Sarah Russell – Scintilla review

I’ve read many of Sarah’s poems individually, and also this collection as a whole. It’s a powerful collection, nicely summarized by this review.

Purchase details and lots of beautiful writing can be found on Sarah’s site, here – Sarah Russell Poetry

Congratulations, Sarah 🙂

The Journey Home

She tells me her pain is a squall,
sudden and vicious, like a flash

storm whipping in from Bass Strait
to batter King Island.
Do you remember our Island, Garth?

Her doctors build shelters; nurses
batten hatches, but this tempest

won’t blow over. She says her pain is a vulture now,
circling the desert on threadbare wings.
A glass of water if you please, Garth?

With beak and claw, it slashes and rips
nerve endings, drinks color from her eyes.

The pain is no longer squall or vulture,
she whispers, but a flutter of pages.
One last story before bed, dear Garth?

I don’t tell her that I’m her grandson—
not her brother Garth, stolen by war.

She’s a thin sheet stretched over an empty
bed; a gull’s cry on the wind.

– Ryan Stone

first published by Eunoia Review, June 2019

Tōrō Nagashi

Your flame flickers briefly—
a parting whisper.
Some trick of the river
mimics your laughter.

We stand apart at sunset,
lost in natsukashii,
come together in darkness,
to watch the dead pass on.

Your light has fallen now
to shadow
beneath the bridge.

Ryan Stone

First published on Napalm and Novocain, January 2016

Published at Poetry Nook, October 2018, Nominated for 2018 Pushcart Prize

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Ethereal Planes

Above fields, bright paper planes fly
While dark the shadows dance below.
Like dreams released come morning’s rise
Above fields, bright paper planes fly.
In silence waits the blackened sky,
The final pitch, night’s all star throw.
Above fields bright, paper planes fly,
While dark the shadows dance below.

Ryan Stone

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