Stones

Before my Father died,

he combed beaches for stones.

Picked for surface smoothness,

colour or shape.

I picture him in my mind's eye

at Anstey's Cove,

pockets half-filled with finds.

Why he decided to apply

clear varnish, allow time to dry,

glue a few chosen ones together,

graded by size, escapes me.

I haven't a clue.

Perhaps he knew his days were numbered

and already encumbered with

that disease which killed him,

on a whim he instructed his creative side

to shout out.

Years have passed, 

I sigh as I look at

unstuck remains.

In my hands I hold

the relics of my Father's

last days.

I 

Author's Note

Critique welcome please.

Reviews

[Neville]

these words have once again touched upon that nerve that refuses to die and would I want it to .. no of course not .. since its correct full name is treasured memory .. and now my mucky face is stained because of my involuntarily leaking eyes ... stones eh' who would credit that :) x

[Chris Shaw]

Aw, you know mucky faces are quite endearing. Thank you Neville for choosing this one.

Chris

[KeeD]

They always leave behind tools to help us keep their memory alive. They know that we'll never forget them but at times with the complicated current of life we have trouble getting out of the funk we're in and it's then, they come to us with these carefully planted tools to help us remember them and forget our worldly troubles. You took a small moment and glorified a beautiful memory. I loved this piece

[Chris Shaw]

I still have those stones.

Chris

[.]

Beautiful way of remembering your father. I enjoyed doing that as well finding stones some purples some red they were just pretty in a sense. These are the little things we remember forever .
Good write

[Chris Shaw]

Pleased you enjoyed the read. I still have some of those stones and he has been gone 28 years now. Precious still to me.

[.]

as they should

[Kathy Van Kurin]

"Stones"
Christine Anne Shaw,
We find solace-comfort in nature. I can understand your father enjoying the feel of a stone in his palm. Painting them is such a lovely hobby or as your own papa did, giving them a coating of varnish. It sounds so gorgeous! Memories are our own and give peace and comfort which I sensed in your pretty writing. I liked this phrase: "Years have passed, I sigh as I look at unstuck remains. In my hands I hold the relics of my Father's last days." Again, I see in your poem the memory of your father which is such a blessing.
Kathy

[Chris Shaw]

Lovely thoughts and words from you Kathy. I appreciate you taking the time.

Chris

[Kathy Van Kurin]

Your wonderful tribute really touched my heart.

[Chris Shaw]

So pleased my words connected.

[h d e rushin]

"every poet is terrifying" to borrow Rilke's famous line, because truth telling in the macro are the unpardonable mannerisms of the micro. This is 'how to write a poem 101', where truth and longing are embarked upon then ridden to the end like the hobby horse my own father let me ride until his back gave out with age and with the evidence of hoof prints on his sides. . but simple traceability only works if you can keep the palm of a child's hand still long enough /. Others would have made this poem too gossipy (even myself) in that painstakingly imprint kind of way because I cannot, even now, keep my emotions in check long enough/ great poem. dana

[Chris Shaw]

Great review. Thank you so much. pleased to meet you.

[...]

This poem have very depth and mellancholic atmosphere . Each line give me immagination of grey north sea wth strong symbols stones and your father. Quiet impressive piece for a me. You make very nice poem to celebrate existence of your father .

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you so much for your kind review. Pleased you enjoyed this piece.

[...]

Yes it was very refreshing to read your poem. I really enjoyed.

[Coyote Poetry]

I liked this poem a lot. Me and my grandchildren. We collect rocks. I liked your thoughts about your father. His rocks, also a reminder. Thank you Christine for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[Chris Shaw]

Thank you. I collect rocks with my grandchildren too. It reminds me of my Dad and hopefully in years to come it will remind my grandchildren of me. Your comments are very much appreciated.

[Coyote Poetry]

Please send read request, I would love to read your work. Rock collecting. Grandchildren love this activity. You are welcome Christine.

[Chris Shaw]

Not sure what a read request is. Can you explain please? I am still trying to find my way around this site.

[Coyote Poetry]

After you add someone as a friend. You can go to side button. Read request. Touch read requests. Your befriended friends will show-up. Just touch the name you want to read. They will receive a read request.

[Chris Shaw]

You have been very helpful, thank you so much.

[Coyote Poetry]

Was my pleasure and you are welcome Christine..

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and it leaves us with the idea that the speaker will now glue those pieces of stones together just as she will glue the memories of him together...
i feel strong emotion when i read you, Christine.
j.

[Chris Shaw]

How right you are. I glued the stones together. Today would have been his 88th birthday, I have a candle lit for him. Thank you so much for your review.

[Gee]

Cherished memories. My old man buggered off when we were nippers so poor old mum ended up raising 7 kids on her tod. I have not one single memory of the man that fathered me but have the greatest love and admiration for mum, who worked her fingers to the bone to make sure we always had a meal and half decent clothes on our backs.

[Chris Shaw]

Sad that you had that experience Dee. I was fortunate with my dad.

[Paul Bell]

I think your father was a smart man.
Creative people are always three steps ahead of us mere mortals.
And it worked, cos your mind is thinking as you hold the stones.

[Chris Shaw]

He was smart Paul. Gained a degree in physics, worked hard all his life and had five children who really admired and loved him. Thank you for your review, greatly appreciated.