Day 25 of napowrimo and it’s the Tuesday Platform at Real Toads.

Greetings to all poets, visitors, friends! And so we have come to the last Tuesday of poetry writing month. It has been a CHALLENGE for those who are attempting to complete 30 poems in 30 days. It has also been a celebration of our community of poets – we are so often too busy to make the effort to write on a regular basis (and I count myself in this number) but this one month of the year allows us to come together both to inspire and support the art which all of us holds so dear.

While this platform remains open to any poem you wish to share, I offer a tiny picture prompt for those who may be running out of ideas, and are looking for a spark to ignite the thought process.

The artist I am featuring today is Agnes Lawrence Pelton (1881โ€“1961). To visit the WikiArt gallery of some of her paintings, clickย HERE.


Memory: Agnes Lawrence Pelton Fair Use


as sleep fell heavy

on my eyes


words began to fade

into view


‘pen me’


my mind knew

it was now


i should reach

for paper and pencil

but the desk was

four steps away


and sleep had me

lulled in her

tender embrace




surrender inevitable

and those words

became thin ghosts


silent echoes

in a void



but not


one pebble


upon the shore


much like

all the others



it called to me


i remember that


and now it lies

hidden in plain view





napowrimo 25/30(1)




20 thoughts on “pebbles

  1. sanaarizvi says:

    I like the idea of words becoming ‘thin ghosts’ and ‘silent echoes’ .. all the more reason for us to hold on to them! ๐Ÿ™‚

  2. Kerry says:

    I can relate – this has happened to me many times. I like the way you captured the feeling f the fading words in the dwindling lines.

  3. hypercryptical says:

    Ah that beautiful pull of drifting into sleep… Tis a thing of comfy armchairs and it annoys me that that same beautiful thing never happens when I go to bed!
    Anna :o]

  4. Jim says:

    Good intentions don’t a poem write
    Stay awake or write it down, my thought

    I used to keep a pad and pen bedside and occasionally jotted something down. But never did it become a poem or blog post. I still have file folders full of ideas, every now and then I run across one.

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