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Isaac Hester Poem
A sculpture made of stone may stand alone
Or in a room with friends, it makes no difference.
The sculpture only stands with folded hands
And feet glued at the ends, with great indifference.
The sculpture looks ahead, with pupils dead
And lips sealed firmly shut, into a lifeless smile.
He cannot tell a heart or soul apart,
Nor in his empty gut has much been felt a while.
The warm imprint, even the hint
Of a creator's hand is lost to him by now.
The coolest breeze has long since eased
Away the brand of love carved in his brow.
The softest word cannot be heard
Ringing within his dead, dull ears,
Turning to ice within his heart precise
In form, yet not to beat for years.
Now, as he must, he shelters dust
Upon his shoulders, sick and dreary,
And stands in wait, with heavy weight,
His solid bones are weak and weary.
Copyright © Isaac Hester | Year Posted 2020
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Details |
Isaac Hester Poem
The crab is lonely in the sea
Of regret and melancholy,
He watches idly, in silent plea
Of someone to embrace him.
He wishes daily for a heart
To share his longing, when apart,
But terrified to make the start,
Allows no one to face him.
"Stay away," his bitter cry,
"My claws are sharp and my tongue is sly,
I'll cut you up if you come close by"
And so no one comes near.
Whenever close by others come,
He flees back to his spacious home,
A shell of iron, that saddens some
And brings the others fear.
A wholly cursed creature is he,
Who cannot love or trust with glee,
Or ride the free waves of the sea
To happiness beyond.
Copyright © Isaac Hester | Year Posted 2020
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