I have stepped on countless stones,
I cannot tell the shapes of any.
But if you point a gun at my head and ask;
I can get creative,

I will start with one that is round, or may be elliptical,
then I will start shaping them one by one.
Some would be long with sharp edges.
Some will be colored.

I will slowly make the surfaces uneven,
I will let my creativity flow.
Like the river flows and smoothens them.
My creativity will flow and sharpen them
I will explain every small bit of every stone,
as I will artistically imagine and explain to you.

I might even tell you that one of the stones looked like a small bullet.
May be even like the one that you have in your pointed gun.

But there is no end
Either you pull the trigger,
Or I throw all those imaginary stones at you.

My throws will amuse you,
But your trigger will kill me.
So I will not throw, I will continue.

I will continue till you are all covered
covered with my stories of stones.
And you will start thinking ‘I am one too’
And then may be let me go
And then may be let me go…..

Categories: Poetry

Tags: poem, Poem about Stones, Poetry, Poetry Project