Sculptor Poems - Poems about Sculptor

I delicately savor your body with caresses, like a sculptor shaping the marble

I delicately savor your body with caresses, like a sculptor shaping the marble of life with tender touches,
And in your pure soul, I string dreams like pearls, reflecting the hidden light of desires,
When the moon hides and the stars appear, like lost fireflies on the deep and restless sky,
To feel the love that binds us

CREATION OF MAN Section Sistine Chapel Ceiling 1511 -MICHELANGELO

 do not be afraid

                  GO !     MY  BELOVED
         YOU are the CENTRE OF CREATION
so go         

Hands of a Sculptor

You have the hands of a sculptor
I am malleable clay ~
Shape me, body and soul
Mold my senses ~ sculpt my heart 
  Where your fingers touch me ~
  I am a candle, melted by your flame

A Sculptor Muses

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) 

My friend the sculptor is a lucky man, for in the absence of imagination he does not know suffering

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

I can build a new personality, like a sculptor shaping the clay of life

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

To William Ricketts, Sculptor

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

The Sculptor POTD

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

Sculptor

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.

The Angel On the Mantel

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

I Am a Bone Sculptor

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,

Sculptor

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

Water Sculptor

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

Glacier, Nature's Sculptor

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

What Shaped My Life

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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