The Sculptor And The Rock Pedestal - Poem by olawale famodun
A sculptor, loaded with passion
For his works, worked
On a huge rock pedestal
To sculpt out a human face
For all eternity, on a lonely pathway
Through the desert of Sahara.
Oh inspired sculptor,
What gets you into this mess?
Met the city’s officials
Travelling along the acrid route.
They laughed at the sculptor-
He can never make anything
Out of the rock pedestal,
But the sculptor, loaded with passion
For his works, could
Not make himself listen to them.
A scarlet woman
Also passed that path
Wanting to lore him to bed
On the spartan sandy plains;
He was loaded with passion, the sculptor,
Only for his art,
And she cursed him and his art.
The magician too passed that way;
He jeered at the sculptor
Whom he could finish
The work for by turning
The rock pedestal into a human face
Or do you think the farmer a fool
Who said the sculptor
Has embarked on a fruitless task?
The sculptor must go on
To bring out of the rock pedestal
A human face.
Suddenly, a sheet of lighting
Brought down an expertise
Who curiously watched the sculptor
And then rained
Laughter of scorn on the sculptor.
The inspired sculptor did not
Do as if he heard the expertise
Until the expertise said,
‘Only if you can make the human face speak.’
We then watched
The city’s officials come back,
The scarlet woman dance along,
The magician wade his wand on his return
The farmer come back from his farm
The expertise standing once again
And every flock of people passing by and along
To which the sculptor wished
Could wait to hear a human face talk,
Which is chiseled out of
A rock pedestal.
And when the head appeared,
The ears followed, the chin,
The nose, the forehead, the lips,
The hair truly recognized,
All coming out in whichever order
Until the human face did speak!
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