About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
|
Green Peas at Stake #262325 added October 19, 2003 at 7:19pm Restrictions: None
Prometheus in Chains
Impossible to imagine
that hand etching the stone
with toil, fascination,
patience, and yearning,
chipping with the fire
stolen from gods.
A vision of a blessed mind
in gasps of anticipation
sleepless under black skies,
through deadly storms of living.
A dream alone,
accomplished passion,
whisperings of love,
implied in the object
only through labor;
yet,
left
to a sparrow’s screech.
Bird droppings on marble
a sculpture in chains
with power to crumble
a steel heart.
|
© Copyright 2003 Joy (UN: joycag at Writing.Com). All rights reserved. Joy has granted InkSpot.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
|