The Sculptor Poem by Shankaran Kutty

He chirped and chipped at the hard rock face
Of great passion, driven was he
As the best sculptor he hoped his name was made
And his name spread across the sea

Great plans he harbored in his mind
Of a sculpture so grand and tall
That gently swayed in the summer wind
And was liked by one and all

And thus it was he trudged up the hill
And down the old stone quarry
To get the best stone for his work was his will
And for that he had to hurry

"Don't do it dear ", his sister said
"That rock is too soft to hold."
A village prayed on the quarry bed
Watching the danger unfold

"And if it will that you be gone,
Then keep this close to you",
She gave the ring to her brother her own
One she loved so true

Obstinate was he and never heard a word
That was told to him with love
I will get the best stone for me, he vowed
As the rain clouds gathered above

And so he chipped with all his might
As the rain came pouring down
As thunder rolled and in failing light
When fear gripped the entire town

He never heard the gravel rumble
The world gave way beneath his feet
The rocks above started to slide and tumble
His face went pale as a sheet.

"I should have listened to you sis", he cried
When the rock hit him on the arm
When people came running to help they spied
The ring clutched tightly in his palm

His sister's eyes, he woke to see
Were filled with untold sorrow
"No sis, please don't do this to me
Just cant take, I am sure you know."

He groaned, he cried, his hands twitched in pain
His heart was filled with guilt
All the worlds fame he knew was no gain
When with his sister's tears were built

He clasped her hands, eyes pleading
"Sis, I will never repeat this ever"
Her sorrows gone, she said, sighing,
"Bro, I need you forever.".

So he resolved, to be her "good boy"
His sister's sweet smile his aim
Her love and affection his ultimate joy
And thus he made a great name