Sculptor Poems - Poems about Sculptor

Never to discover the limits of soul Such is the depth of its station The nature of being not what’s distilled But what’s left — from evaporation (Septa R5: March, 2025) ...

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My friend the sculptor is a lucky man, for in the absence of imagination he does not know suffering, He kept his first job and his first wife, without remorse and without repairs, He can drive fifty thousand miles without changing his brakes, as if life flows perfectly linear, He dances with the grace of a swan, with...

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I can build a new personality, like a sculptor shaping the clay of life, But I feel the gaze of who I once was, watching me from the shadow of memories, I try to bury her, but my hands weaken when digging deep into the past, And I cannot burn her, for the flames would leave scars on...

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Between the trees a waterfall of light, a stillness bright with bubbling springs and birdsong. Here you stumbled ...

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The wood was perfect. Hammer in hand, he toiled. Sweat trickled down his neck. Her face was chiselled, A perfect portrait: The hawk-like nose, The high cheekbones, The wide brow. But not her flaring eyes. They defied him. In exasperation, he threw the lamp, His only source of light, And watched the wood burn. In the deserted cabin. In a wooded glen forlorn, When the fire subsided They found his...

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In chambers lit by candle's glow, A sculptor stands, with brow alight, Where visions grand begin to flow, From marble cold, a form takes flight. With hammer's tap and chisel's grace, He breathes life In chambers lit by candle's glow, A sculptor stands, with brow alight, Where visions grand begin to flow, From marble cold, a form takes flight....

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the angel on the mantel comes from an old wagon road that cuts from desert brush into the burnished hills where creosote breaks up and scatters at the base of the Chiricahuas where Fort Bowie Calvary slaughtered Apache braves where an old cancerous man treks miles of primitive trail into the heart of a sacred mountain for pure white marble, cut into...

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I’m a bone sculptor the gorgeous man said, his name was Dean. I asked what does that mean? I had never heard of such a thing. An artist, I take bleached bones and make a fine scene. Thought I could take it, so I went with him to see a creation called Sing. Oh, this is it, I said,...

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Jerry and I were inseparable then straight and tall high school buddies we had it all. The girls favored him heart-melting smile the epitome of class the essence of style. But I won over a few 'twas only so much of him. I had sweet Patricia who loved me to the brim. The day came when we parted Jerry chased what he wanted to be. He chanced upon...

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Water Sculptor Life stretches into abundant sheaths swelling with water, Living breath of the selfless servant cascades through veins Drawn into waterways of stalks and roots Reaching – climbing – filling - shaping Boughs of mighty oaks and agile weeping willows Self-sculpture surging, fashioned into perfumed sinuous vines, Arching floral sunbows, Floods of bursting supple rose petal scented fountains - The graceful limber...

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Glacier! Icy, cold, hard. Diamond-like, it chisels the frosty landscape....

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Time and events chisel and shape our lives, an unknown sculptor blue prints your life plan, a knock here, a cut there, we think ‘not fair’ we journey along through ridges and lairs, rewards flow in that we relish and cheer, count our gains in terms of money we earn, real reward is that we don’t understand, the gift of wisdom that...

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oh sculptures around imagination sculpted ...

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Midday sun burns. An iron chisel plays sad tunes on a stone. He enjoys prolonged chiseling. The granite conceives from his tool-point, giving birth to a god, who will be plagued in a prayer hall, with endless demands, by someone as his spouse....

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Master Sculptor, God Divine, Chisel upon this life of mine. Strike each blow with artisan care, Until the shape of Christ appears....

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