Those who throw stones

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
poem

Submitted: February 16, 2017

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Submitted: February 14, 2017

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A box of rocks bundled together while the rest formed a circle

gathered sticks along with leaved formed a pile

faster than thought a fire was forged warming the tips of fingers

many thoughts linger standing alone greatful for the comfort of fire

reminds me of desire the magic of being inspired

something that those who throw stones lack

I remember turning my back to the three speaking in a foreign tongue one of them acting dumb

"his ass is my shirt" the words were said

they are hollowed without soul lacking real control

there's a realness with fire a firmness of a familiar friend

making for good company a solidity that can't be stolen


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