A Poem about Rocks

silly stuff

This is a poem about rocks.

Let's baptize them "Rocks"

because it's the only name

that makes sense for rocks.

But then again all rocks are called "Rocks"

so giving them a name

won't have a difference anyhow.

But are they "he" or "she"?

Let's say it doesn't matter.

After all, rocks don't wear clothes.

Rocks don't go on dates,

get married,

or make love.

So giving them gender is pointless.

Very pointless.

So rocks see the world

--but they are a piece of the world

and rocks don't have senses

so rocks cannot see.

Worse, rocks can never feel.

Rocks feel bad about their nature.

But then I just remembered

rocks are deprived of feelings

so ignore the sixth line of this stanza.

Nobody knows the birthday of rocks.

All we know is

they were born rocks

and they will die as rocks.

But rocks don't have life

so rocks never die.

But then again, nothing lasts forever

so maybe rocks die, too?

Perhaps God hates rocks

because He created wind to torture rocks

and water to erode rocks.

But it takes years.

Lots and lots of years.

But at least rocks will die.

What will happen next?

After the death of rocks, I mean?

Will rocks grow wings and be sent to heaven?

(Do rocks even have their own heaven?)

If a rock has been a really good rock,

maybe it will.

But how can we say a rock has been good?

By staying faithful on the ground?

By drifting flirtatiously with the wind?

By allowing humans to craft it into good shape?

We will never know.

We are not rocks.

We have senses.

We have names.

We have identities.

We have sexual preferences.

We have life.

We have souls.

We are humans.

But this poem is not about humans.

This poem is about rocks.

Author's Note

My dear friend Eddie Davis once commented on one of my poems: I'm pretty sure you could write about a rock laying on the ground and make it wonderful and interesting.

I tried to prove him wrong by writing this, which for me, is the worst rubbish I came up with. xD

I had a really good time writing this one, though.

Thank you, Eddie Davis. :)

See orginal link: http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/arzeljoy_blu/1288095/

Reviews

[Reeti]

Primarily when reading the first three stanzas, I had thought that its literary quality might not exist- "what about rocks? Isn't it obvious that they're dead and forever dead matters that we have nothing much to do with?" But, then, i figured- "no, there must be something to it! Otherwise, how could it be a verse?"

Having read on, I inferred the point of your allusive verse. The critical evaluation between rocks and ourselves has been elicited very effectively despite the simple choice of words. It's intriguing to the point that there is zaniness to it. Well done!!! =)

[Blue]

I'm pleased to know you got my point. Thank you, Reeti.

[Reeti]

You're welcome. =)

[BlackHeart]

I find this poem very beautiful and insightful and truthful at that it does make you wonder if rocks could feel does the wind and water truly hurt them?

[Blue]

Thank you, BlackHeart.

[Great Aunt Astri]

Your 'conversational' poem worked quite`well, I don't think it was total rubbish as you suggest. I will certainly alsways think of rocks differently now!

[Blue]

Thank you so much.

[Einstein Noodle]

i may have rocks in my head but; you know, i kinda like this :)
E.

[Blue]

Thank you, Einstein.