Elegy
If sculpting is your art, O craftsman, Shape my face, my body, and my soul with your hand.
If sculpting is your art, O craftsman, Shape my face, my body, and my soul with your hand. Turn water into glass for me, if you can, Or cleanse this mirror of its rust and sand. To weave my veil, mix the hues of a rainbow, And carve colours from flowers and butterflies aglow. You claim your hands hold many crowned heads, Then shape a melody from wood, let music be spread. On a blank page, you’ve drawn trees and bloom, If you write poetry, give it taste and room. As you’ve chiselled the sun with precision and care, Take your tools and create brilliance to share. I will build a world vast and free, Not confined by a grave, a cage, or misery. It’s my craft to make sweetness and honey abound, But you, craft the sting, and let its pain resound. You, a master of mud’s enchantments divine, Why stunned by the beauty of a woman so fine?
By Muhammad Waseem 2 years ago in Poets
A Rose Galaxy
A striking image Of a rose made of galaxies. Can we be alone? *** Author’s note: I truly believe that with all the trillions and gazillions of galaxies out there, we cannot be the only life available. We are probably just neglected and unnoticed. But even then, maybe they are just watching us as an experiment without interfering.
By Lana V Lynx2 years ago in Poets
Political Ten
The Romans were right (binary: one and zero). It marks all of us. Apt... * Thank you for reading! If you liked this, you can add your Insights, Comment, leave a Heart, Tip, Pledge, or Subscribe. I will appreciate any support you have shown for my work.
By Kendall Defoe 2 years ago in Poets
