Long Sculptor Poems
Long Sculptor Poems. Below are the most popular long Sculptor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sculptor poems by poem length and keyword.
Why Trouble comes
Trouble comes to everyone,
It comes to one and all,
No one person is excluded,
It comes like raindrops fall.
But did you ever wonder;
With a teardrop in your eye?
Why sorrow comes to unbidden?
And why good people die?
It starts when you’re a Baby,
In your Mother’s arms;
With no thought of trouble,
Or that anything can harm.
With each trial, we grow stronger
More the person we should be.
Like a sculptor, our Dear Master
Chips away what should not be.
He finds our hidden beauty
Hidden deep within the stone,
Till we stand in His perfection;
At the gate to our New Home.
If in life there were no problems
What sort of creatures would we be?
Not pleasing to our Master,
Are ready for Eternity.
I don’t have a blueprint,
just this smudged version
of what she would look like,
an impression in a shop windowpane,
as the light catches her in mid-thought.
To recreate, I must fillet an idea until
it is just a blood surge, and a milky image of smoke;
I must work on her from the inside,
teasing out strands of mutual desire
from slim neck bones
and a tidal whelm.
My hands are palms outward and kneading;
a kind of questioning masturbation -
that is the gentlest way
to daub such imaginings into prayer.
Maybe I could chafe that conceit, like fresh
Virginia leaf between my fingers,
dunk her in a glass of Folonari Valpolicella
then place the wad between my gums,
chawing on it until she takes shape in my mouth.
No need to ever take her out,
she will disappear soon enough
into a space reserved only
for dwindling stars.
Perhaps she will suicide
into her own a wind-blown gawkish appearance.
The sculptor in me leaves a fatal wink in this ideal,
one that will metamorphose into something
too fair for my skin-leaching hands,
too transient for her still-life.
Then, when all is said and done,
she will simply remain this poem,
an ongoing motif,
that will surprise me again and again,
as I glimpse her once more
through a forever blurred window.
In the quiet corners of my mind,
where thoughts intertwine with the wind of the night,
I remain still, pushing you away, though you cannot see,
the love I keep hidden and true,
a truth I hold just for myself.
I will never tell you how I feel,
nor show the warmth beneath my apparent calm,
for your joy, I will keep this secret,
and watch your happiness from afar.
Your smile will not be because of me,
just as your tears will not fall for what I have done,
you will find your light and chase your dreams,
while I remain the shadowed one.
So here I stay, a silent friend,
watching you grow and feeling proud,
my love remains a quiet song,
that you will never hear but will always know.
In the twilight of my thoughts,
where shadows intertwine with the whispers of the wind,
I lose myself in the silence between us,
an abyss of unexpressed feelings,
in a love story that was never written,
a story known only to me.
Every day, I watch you follow your path,
a dance of lights and shadows, a ballet of destiny,
and I, a silent spectator, applaud your every step,
with a heart full of unspoken love.
In melancholic evenings, when stars light up the sky,
I imagine a world where I could tell you everything,
but reality swallows me and reminds me of my role,
a silent protector of your happiness.
I wish to whisper to you about my dreams,
about the desires that burn within me,
but I choose to remain in the shadows, for your sake,
letting you shine in your own light.
For my love, though silent and unseen,
is eternal and pure, like an underground river,
flowing through my soul, nourishing the soil of your hopes,
and even if you never know it,
it will always be there, by your side.
In this silent love story,
I am an unseen guardian of your smile,
a poet of unspoken emotions, a sculptor of your dreams,
and though you will never know,
my love will live in every step you take.
So, in the quiet corners of my mind,
I will continue to love you from a distance,
a silent friend, a faithful shadow,
in a love story that will never end.
On a velvet night, when man enters woman,
like a wave kissing the shore with repeated desire,
and the woman opens her mouth like a flower revealing its petals at dawn,
her teeth shine like stars that form the alphabet of the sky,
and the Logos, like an alchemist of dreams, milks a star of cosmic milk,
while the man, deep within the woman, ties a knot of infinity,
promising that they will never be two separate destinies again,
and the woman transforms into a flower swallowing light,
for the Logos, like a sculptor of destiny, unleashes their inner rivers.
These two, with their hunger for boundlessness,
seek to penetrate the mystery hidden behind the divine curtain,
and for a fleeting moment, they touch the edge of eternity,
but God, in His enigmatic and vast play,
unties their knot, to let love flow again, free.
Like a torrent of thoughts rolling through the universe,
the stream of consciousness carries us on the wings of unfulfilled desires,
where the sky merges with the earth in an eternal embrace,
and every touch becomes a verse of an unwritten poem,
where their kiss is a portal to unseen worlds,
and their love a silent symphony that fills the void with harmony,
where their souls dance on the edge of time,
blending into a cosmic embrace that defies the ephemeral,
until the invisible hands of fate separate them like a dissipated cloud,
in the endless ocean of memory and forgetfulness,
where love, like a hidden river, continues to flow beneath eternal skies.
I do not praise the fleeting clay, but the divine, supreme Soul who ignited the cosmic spark to worship within this universe.
The idol is merely an anchor for the wandering mind, the origin of all our grand rituals.
In this mortal form, I honor the eternal grace-whether found on an altar of gold or a simple block of stone.
Yet, in restless thoughts, I only cloud my inner heart;
the blind fail to see the Sculptor hidden within creation's art.
They breed divisions, fueled by the vanity of pride, even as scriptures crown mankind above the earth.
Here lie our vices-the chaos, bias, and greed.
Let the rigid dogmas of bigotry recede in the presence of pure bliss.
Bind humanity in sacred harmony, let the earth find its release.
Within the sanctuary of my soul, I have enthroned the Lord of Peace.
If only a fraction of mercy rains upon this mortal shore!
For whatever form I worship, it is not the form itself that I adore.
Beneath the veil of shapes, I seek the absolute whole,
offering no rituals, save the devotion of my soul.
Let me find deliverance by serving creation as its priest; grant me fortitude, grant me courage, and keep my spirit at peace.
Let no spiritual numbness shackle my living days.
You are the chalice, the bloom, the idol of clay.
Living within the form, yet remaining formless, you flow through this cosmic maze.
For you
I would
create a mixtape
which I know is an ancient technology but
with me and you it is just that simple.
I race to you like we used to rush into each other's arms in highschool
where our only concern was whether or not we could get the courage to talk to each other without shaking.....
This is the playlist that I would prepare for you.
First and foremost I'd put Hate to see you go by The colour fred
Because it is true as the song has said
Truly if I could I would become a
sculptor...
I would place the unformed chunk of my clayself and spin.
Create myself in the image of your ideal perfection.
I would spin
Faster than the spools could play the songs on re-wind
I want so badly to make an impresion
and I know that the the tape can only contain up to 35 minutes for you to get the underlying
message
October Nights, by Yellowcard
will follow soon after
because that exotic night in your car
where the street lights were our blankets
is constantly on replay in my mind
Right before the heavy nod of sleep
I daydream
You are laying beside me, and in this private realm of thought
We travel like archeologists over the naked lay of our connected bodies
and I live through the pleasure that this daydream explodes into my mind like
parasympathetic nerve ending fireworks
Remember will play softly by Allister
and I'll hold onto the hope that you will forgive me of this time in our lives where I have to
press pause
for I am broken still
Knaans waving flag will resound from your stereos
For 'tis this soundtrack where my battle cry is derived
I know it is just the beginning but I will push myself past my barriers
Pieces by Sum 41 will be your lullaby
because this is the song that brought back the blue into my gray eyes
Hopefully side one will bring you comfort
because you are everything I am looking for in a guy
I am but a broken winged robin who has got to learn once more to fly.
and lastly Blink 182's I miss you
Because there is not a moment in the day where my mind wanders back to you
Form:
A single stride, like silence, from my mother's womb,
Leads me through hills and valleys till I reach my tomb…
Each step of my journey is an education;
That, like a sculptor, shapes, sculpts my destination.
Coiled in, like snow serpents, are cool freshwater streams;
Wherefrom I quench my thirst; like rays, my journey gleams.
Stern like a lion; steady; I complete each step;
Sun and moon and stars enlighten my every pep.
I don't curse the roads though, like crooked minds, damaged;
I dig my routes; pave my paths; straighten the ravaged.
So seldom have my paths been soft like flowers-paved;
It's in ups and downs that I've always my zeal swayed.
Fear, like thorns of a rose, is part of my journey;
Loneliness, though thorny, my journey is ferny.
Hope and trust, like torches, in my journey I bear;
My successes and failures, like stories, I share.
Of all journeys, the one going toward within;
Has been the greatest of my self-fulfilling win…
I know my journey will never come to an end;
Till it finds its origin and end getting blend…
11 September 2021
''J'' Contest, New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Why wait for anything
and regret unrealized dreams
when even hope redeems?
Why have an awful feeling
and settle for uncertainty to come?
Rise above your hopelessness
and get rid of scary things
that affects almost everything...
what's your hesitation to cling
to choices that are better than none?
If life breathes into your awareness,
appreciation must be elevated considering
its sacredness that's never doubtful,
embrace it without being ungrateful;
if they deride you, ignore their foolish words
and continue laughing and living!
Why wait for anything
and hold your feeble breath wishing?
What would you be accomplishing?
Strip your reasoning of false concepts,
conquer what seems unconquerable...
earthly gods were carved out of marble
and their sculptor had certain flaws
not visible to the eye, but disputable.
You were made of flesh and bones,
you were given a brain for thinking
and hands for building amazing things.
The brutality of certain leaders of worldly power
may repulse you and change your perspective
of this human race so bizarre, confused, and insane;
you have the potential to decrease their fear:
why wait for anything to happen to them
and not let them carry the torch of wisdom?
As in the mind of the sculptor
who sees a face or figure
to be revealed
in a block of stone or caressed
into form out of a lump of clay,
the sacred too is held hidden
within the appearance
of ordinary things.
I seldom notice
in the hurry and self occupied
focus of my life the profound
silence that lays at the core
of the magpie's exquisite song,
the still across which clouds move,
the emptiness into which
all the contents of a day are poured.
And in the turmoil that sometimes
rages through my mind
am I aware of the calm
at the very centre of who I am
and in the essence
of all created things. Nor do I
grasp eternity along whose
endless path time ticks out
its measured steps
and my life on this planet
plying a universe that seems
to be expanding into
an unanswerable mystery,
a Mind writing itself in matter
and gifting me in its vast
unfolding, a part, a moment
of form.
The constellation Caelum means chisel a tool that a sculptor would use, and you were the chisel to me and I was your statue
You started out slowly breaking away little pieces of me, until you could make your masterpiece complete
You didn’t realize that you were chipping away what made me myself, you didn’t care all that you wanted was to please yourself
When you looked at me all that you saw were the flaws within, and that is where your work on me began
You had a vision in your head of what you portrayed me to be, and nothing was going to stop you until you completely changed me
You took away so much and you left me in so much pain, you didn’t care that you were cutting into me and that you were the one to blame
Everything had to be perfect there were to be no visible marks, your work was to be beautiful, a magnificent piece of art
You chiseled away at my heart until there was barely anything left, and you feel nothing, not even regret
My eyes are stained with tears that you can’t erase, although you tried profusely in your haste
This was the one part that I thought would make your work fail, but oh was I wrong this is what made me sell
Everyone loved the raw emotion, the look of brokenness, of despair, and there was nothing I could do but look back at them with my empty stare
I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t comply, all that I could do was sadly stand there and wonder why
I was nothing but a muse for you, a vision in your head, and look where that led me to a life of silence and dread
Why did you sculpt me this way to remind you that love is real and true? It’s sad that you know this, but it doesn’t change you
You’re still just a tool that is used to make something ordinary in your eyes into something that you seek, but I’m nothing but a vessel stuck inside stone with no voice and no way to speak.
This poem is from my book titled Constellations of Love available on Amazon and Kindle. My pen name is Amanda Carroll Kinzer