The pen is still.

The hammer lies at rest.

The brushes are clean.

Creation is complete.


I’ve made the words sing;

the marble breathe.

The canvas throbs with life.


Look upon it.

Marvel at its perfection.

Love it.


Do not look beyond the creation.

Do not seek the twisted,

the grotesque Micaelangelo

behind his ‘David’.


See the perfect thing I have created.

See the beauty.

See my soul.


This misshapen temple

guards well its holy of holies.

Who would search for beauty within decay?


Oh, but the restless spirit that is my soul

strives to be free!

And I create.


Can beauty grow from within?

Will there be a day when creation gives way

to wholeness?

Will there be a day when my creation

and my soul are one?


Oh, God,

how could you bear it

when your creation became corrupt?

When you created perfection from perfection

and watched it become the twisted,

the grotesque Michaelangelo?


About dswan2

Poet, author, columnist, lyricist, mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, wife of 50 years. Born and raised in America's Heartland
This entry was posted in Inspiration and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.


  1. Reflections says:

    To feel the pain, the yearning of the artist in want of understanding. Look here at my piece, but don’t look beyond, though there are depths to my creation. Wonderfully shared!

  2. Jingle says:

    profound and theme fitting piece.
    Thanks for sharing.


  3. David King says:

    The first stanza is perfect, complete in itself. Lovely.

  4. Fantastic this poem speaks volumes!

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