The Poet Artist
“Poltroon!” He calls out in his sleep,
caught up in words, even when deep
in dreams—those places where he goes
where fresh ideas, rows upon rows,
spreading farther, stacking higher,
crowd his brain . And now, “Pismire!”
Is he building poems or sculptures there?
What new dream, what bold nightmare
will he allow to come to light
as soon as he has finished night
and carved his way into the the day?
The worker ant come out to play?
Carving stone into a face
or moving words from place to place.
All those schemes conceived in dreams
turned into his creative schemes.
I intrude, a kiss, a cuddle,
bringing love into the muddle
of his early morning head,
still sleeping here in my warm bed.
This is no coward sleeping here.
He has no qualms, displays no fear
of any challenge of his art
or adventures of the heart.
Metal, wood, paper and stone—
no one material alone
can solve his lust. He needs them all.
No stone too heavy. No scheme too tall.
And, alas, no woman will
manage to completely fill
that questing heart. That grasping soul.
seeking to reach that final goal.
See some results of those dreams HERE.
Prompt words today are poltroon, cuddle, pismire, allow and worker.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Well done Judy!
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I followed through on all the click heres. An amazing artist and wonderful smile. Sad for your loss
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It was twenty years ago–Prompt words sometimes pick up old memories.
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I love your poem and how you’ve portrayed him. His work is amazing.
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It is. I’d love to know where all of it is now…
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🤗
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Fantastic, Judy. What a man!
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That he was. An original.
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Wonderful tribute to the artist. Amazing, creative works!!
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‘Is he building poems or sculptures there?’ This line in particular pulled me in deeper to this piece. I really enjoyed this post !
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Thanks, Susan.
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Excellently written!!
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