Best Artificer Poems
Resurrecting Icarus
or
A Modern Moral Fable
by
Rick Folker
Kansas City, Mo
Daedalus claimed the sky,
Built a labyrinth from which
Theseus could fly
...
Minos enraged, entombed the
Treacherous Daedalus in a tower
No sky could aide the architect’s power
On high
No land, no sea
Gave comfort to the builder's sigh
Would he hopeless entreat the silent sky
Or conquer it within, at least, in his mind’s eye?
...
Yet, the great artificer fashioned
An ingenious answer to the Minoan king;
Feathers of wax resembling wings
His craft and his son could now be free
To dream
Where only untamed zephyrs and partridges sing
Where high aloft they would transcend
Minos, Ariadne, Theseus
And Meandering rivers of Cretan men
...
But hubris, not modesty, carved the Icarian path
Daedalus, proud Daedalus, helpless
To tame the youth's spirit, and soften
The gods' wrath
And so Icarus unrestrained
Tried, like Prometheus, to lay claim
To the fire, that only Olympians retain
And thus fell Icarus to Daedalus and
The Nereids' plain
...
Thus leaves us wondering, like hapless sages through the ages,
"Would he rise again?"
Or would his brilliant feathers melt into the smouldering shame?
Or would the Phoenix sort and gather the remnants that remain
And take up another more hopeful god's refrain:
'The surviving remnant will bring forth
new roots below and fruits above; for you have restored the dignity my Icarus has duly slain”
Lo, what stands before me is most certainly peculiar
This bombast wall of mystery crafted by an artificer unknown
Thus I shall pursue my inquiry by light that is lunar,
And cast away every unturned stone
As I draw near this pillar now,
A certain notion becomes quite clear
Its facade is of great beauty, this, I cannot disavow
For the marble is exquisite, ‘tis something to revere
Assuredly, this work serves for a greater purpose indeed
To arouse inspiration amongst mankind,
And to hasten the pace at which we succeed
As to not rush articulation, but to ensure all deeds are refined
The sun commences to rise and this pillar turns to waste
For what is valuable at night; in the day, is erased
Verily,here,is awaited fate.
I,artificer of that which immures me,
am befuddled by such hands that abate
and augment 'mid its trice mellifluously.
There is no such animal as time
thrashing at one's mind
with its keen ungual;
ravishing ponder to despondent wonder.
Hobbles and fetters of sullen hue
embellish the aura of my silhouette.
Verily,here,there is penance due
for the catharsis of my soul's etiquette.
Amongst miserable ululation
from pederasts and recalcitrant knaves,
I hearken my own lamentation,
And to my heart's resound I am but a slave.
There is no such animal as fate,
laden on one's pate
with heft of loathsome beast;
ravaging blunder to a roseate ponder.
What passion that lies before
Has drowned the truth offshore
Written heart, carved in blood
The spoken word is a flood
The written word is an earthquake
What passion is in doth shake
Lies in permanent form, carved in stone
Shakes the core, shakes the bone
Feel the rhythm in the hands
The fierce artificer
Dead without passionate plans
Now they’ll frolic wiser
Daedalus in his heart wept
While far below plunged Icarus
A father's words unheeded
Both sun and sea corrupted
Wax melting,feathers heavy with spray
What a poor fisherman witnessed
Uncomprehendingly
Youth's folly to ignore a wise head.
The artificer flew on,joyful to have left his labyrinth
Broken to see his son die.
That spot would forever be called the Icarian Sea
The hideous blot of a dark memory.
primal atavism
northeastern artificer
climb coconut tree
The undying Artificer with His holy hand
Formed a lump of clay into living figurine,
Human Being, by name of its mortal brand.
It fell into this earth from heavenly shrine.
The creature of clay packed the empty earth
With its disparate footsteps, singular self
And grew into Races, dyed in Colour of birth.
It drenched itself in particles of lethal pelf.
Humans with a secular Name exist, expire.
Few entities of their finest feats and fame
Enlighten this earth. Yet they are, are, are
Only a lump of clay with a transient name.