The Death Of Genius Poem by DM W
The Death Of Genius
The creators of stars
Have all perished.
There's no one left
To guide the slow arrow of beauty.
There's no Orpheus,
To tame the feral beasts,
With the sweetest of refrains.
No one to caress
The marble and stone;
No one to carve the perfect form.
No one to collect the sun
from the sapphire sea.
All that remains is to
Cannibalize old styles.
All that's left for us artists
Is to trace lines of light in the desert.
“Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, known best as simply Michelangelo, was an Italian sculptor, painter, architect and poet of the High Renaissance born in the Republic of Florence.” I read, in The Agony and the Ecstasy (novel) how huge chunks of marble were harvested for Mike. WoW! ! MANPOWER, HAND TOOLS, ROPES AND ROLLERS. BTW MARBLE is A ROCK, ISN’T IT? ! & i AM still alive! ! bri :)
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9/23/2024 2:32:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
'No one to caress the marble and stone, No one to carve the perfect form.' Such a superb poem Dominic a joy to read and behold and read again. And your closure line is for any good writer to simply die for. Five stars and deservedly so. Many, many thanks for crafting this wonderful poem. Take care.