BRICK Poem by Geert van Istendael
BRICK
He has the angles of a bricklayer's hand.
He gains the symmetry of honeycombs
when finding a connection with his peers.
Level. Pointed. He breathes holes,
vault and arch enlighten his insight.
He'll take on anything, he struts it all. Dutch street,
Roman sewer, from Babylon to Gothic,
he is the callus of cities. Sometimes a thermal.
What an imagination you have! This is not a topic commonly chosen! ! ! But you took this topic places- -excellent word choice. 10++++++++++++++++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 4:02:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I like exploring the builders' world through examination of hands and the styles being endemic to poetry.