God Monologue Poem by Jan Sand

God Monologue



I stand here on polished malachite,
My stubby feet encased in gold.
Candles circle me alight,
My arms crossed in eternal fold.
My eyes are diamond, my teeth are pearl.
Bright paints highlight my face.
My lips, permanent in curl.
The adulants kneel down before my base.
They mumble nonsense down into the floor.
Sometimes, in blood, they sacrifice each other.
It excites them. To me it is a bore,
A silly action, meaningless, a bother.
Long ago, I grew towards light, a tree.
I sucked the earth for water and for food.
Mostly, pure air manufactured me.
They chopped me down, just to use my wood.
In one side they cut an ugly face.
As a tree I possessed some beauty.
What they did to me was a disgrace.
They rubbed me glossy, black and sooty,
Conducted ceremonies most odd.
It seems it takes a tree to make a god.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Aftab Alam Khursheed 18 May 2013

A nice monologue about the trees (polished malachite,) and at the end It seems it takes a tree to make a god. and in 'tween They chopped me down, just to use my wood. very nice

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