I stand breathless like a statue frozen in time,

Beautifully horrified otherwise sublime,

Dreaming mine oddity an artwork with a smile,

To an eye kind but only for a bent while,

A sculptured profile with endless ends unrefined,

Taking up space and yet remaining undefined,

That which is inside was not created on a high,

Although inspired it was never part of the design,

For chiselled stone doesn’t cry let alone feel alive,

Although daft works are said to have their own drive,

To somehow survive the piercing of prying eyes,

That swell with green tears as they tell rosy lies,

For nothing cries for what is mostly despised,

Especially when wonderment can’t act surprised,

All’s surmised from here where I can’t hide,

Something non-living that claimed to have died,

Contempt filled spies attend to attempt to socialise,

This private exhibition uninvited are the wise,

The size of their pride hardly something they’d let fly,

Given their prickly reluctance to even ask why,

It all goes by like these dull grey thoughts of mine,

And all these cement like feelings holding up my spine,

I wonder if I’d shine if more of these onlookers were blind,

Then maybe more of I would be less like our own kind…


2 responses to “Breathless

  1. love the imagery in this one! I enjoyed reading you again. I have noticed you haven’t posted much in a while and was surprised to see this. hope all is well.

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