Wednesday, 29 July 2015

The stone...

How I wish my heart was a stone.
Untouched by past,
Unaware of present,
Washed smooth by waves,
Made cold by ice,
Shaped by the wind,
Ignored by the world,
Hidden in deep,
Lost to all.
A certain thing,
Not a thing of beating.
A stone.

 I heard it beat from the shoreline.
That place where the road meets the sea.
Heavy as lead,
Hard as steel,
Calling out to me.
As if it wasn't enough to be alone
At that place where the road meets the sea.
Hurt to the bone
With the pull of a past,
The echoing beat of a stone.


  1. So here's the back story on this.

    We took a drive along the Caernarfon coast road. For once my knee allowed me to walk a little, so I scrambled down to the beach whilst Gaynor sat in the car doing her crossword. It was a weathersome day of sunshine and storm, the oyster catchers shrilling and suddenly I knew that amidst all those pebbles on that beach there was a heart waiting for me.

    It was as if it called out to me and with five steps I walked straight to it and picked it up. this poem are the thoughts that came into my head as I stood there looking out towards the windmills spinning in the distance holding my heart in my hand.

    I had found heart, or rather it had found me.

  2. Clare Pritchard on FB
    I'd rather your heart be just the way it is kind x

    1. Andrew Height
      I'm not sure everyone would agree Clare, but thanks.