Saturday, April 27, 2019

Pramila Khadun writes

Take me home

I have been flung by the waves
A million times, brushed by them,
Washed by them, swirled by them
Until all my raw edges became smooth.
To onlookers, I became a thing of beauty,
To poets, a reference
And to children, a joy for ever.
I am a pebble,
Kiss me,
Touch me
And take me home
If you wish.
-- Kevin Lowery

1 comment:

  1. The Clod and the Pebble

    "Love seeketh not itself to please,
    Nor for itself hath any care,
    But for another gives its ease,
    And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."

    So sung a little Clod of Clay
    Trodden with the cattle's feet,
    But a Pebble of the brook
    Warbled out these metres meet:

    "Love seeketh only self to please,
    To bind another to its delight,
    Joys in another's loss of ease,
    And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite."

    -- William Blake


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