201701 Monthly Poem

SHINGLE

Pick up a handful of the stones

On any English beach,

Flat or round  or square shaped

A different shape for each

 

There's stones you'll find in every hue

Black and red and blue,

A kaleidoscope of colour

Sparkling in the dew.

 

Now think – where did they come from?

What do you really see?

Just a mass of hard old stones

Taken from the scree!

 

Together they make the shingle beach

But every one is different,

They bonded well together

Because they are so tolerant.

 

The stones are there for a reason

To keep the storms at bay,

They are natures own defences

And together they will stay.

 

People are like pebbles

Black and white and brown,

Together on the beach called 'earth'

Looking for a crown.

 

Unless all nations hold fast together

The storms of life will come,

Then surely man will perish

Before the setting sun.

 

Hold hands with one another

It does not matter who,

Together we can turn the tide

And it starts with me and you.

 

 

Paul Scrivener


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