pebble poems

 pebble poems

there was this pebble poet

he wasn’t very good

sometimes he wrote on pebbles

sometimes he wrote on wood

of all the passers by you see

on that promenade above the sea

some thought him mad

but some were glad

to have that little lift you see

to think a thought that day

to stop and ponder on the words

on the seats above the bay

some were written black on white

some were white on black

but once his haiku brain switched on

there was never no going back

every day he takes his swim

warm or cold its the same to him

every day he writes a pebble

some are good some are terrible

but off they go warm and pocketed

all around the world its said

there many pebbles on the beach

just the thoughts that are out of reach

until this poet picks his brains

and write his thoughts upon the runes

some are funny some are rude

none are suitable for a prude

so dear passerby he says

stop and pick up a pebble or wood

turn it over in your hand and mind

you never know it could be good

and i would think you ever so kind

i would