(Pygmalion & Galatea by Bulfinch)
I am asking you
Who gives a damn about
The finished sculpture now,
Without its feelings,
Or a soul, or a spirit endowed?
If it can no longer cry to you
With tears that empower
If it can no longer smile for you
As a gardener’s flower
If it can no longer bleed the blood
That falls for you to nurse
Than what use do you have of it?
What is this object’s worth?
When your object’s failings cease to be
Its personal tragedy
When that subhuman statue turns to see
The world in full humanity
And marble eyes fill with tears
That you did not supply
And leaks its salty water
Is it still lovely in your eyes?
When it happens to step into the sun
And into the night wind, curious
Will you say that it has shunned
Its creator, and abandoned him for play.
Chisel-wielder, do you see
How you look upon me
Not as a Someone with a reflection
But as an object for your needs?
A sculptor looking with aspiration
Never with full admiration
Chisel, ever in your hand
©2010 LuzBriar.
NOTE to Reader: Folks, if you are here and reading, PLEASE click a response below. You don’t even have to leave a comment, just check off something at the bottom of the page. Unless, of course, you hate it. Then do tell me why. What’s the point of posting if nobody reads?! :(
I actually think this is one of your better poems. It starts off a bit weak, particularly the line about smiling and a gardner's flower, but you ended it really nicely on a strong note. The perspective is confusing at first, but becomes clear at the end and I really like how you chose to portray the POV of the statue and her opinions on the sculptors frustrations.
ReplyDeletethanks Alex! i agree with you about the flowery shit. i dont know what my obsession with plants are lately 0_o it'll probably be pruned out. d'oh! there i go again!
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