December 26, 2007 2:18 PM
Here are a couple of poems written by my fiance Tom Sullivan.
One tiny drop,
teeters on the lip,
Notes of fruit and chocolate
drawing on the depths
of the old and mixing
Men, aged ‘n oaken
with the raw and undeveloped,
talk of the way
could have been—
glass after glass.
We weep and rage
over ifs and loves.
Husbands of the grape
and lovers of yeast,
we touch glasses
with friends and enemies.
The marble feels so strong,
bathed in heavy sunlight,
scorching to the touch.
I wonder how those lines
cut their way through the silica--
pink and flashes of blue.
I’ve tried to make my own way in,
too slow to realize that my bone
are too weak, and feel the heat
The master craftsman
chipped it away,
intentionally leaving flaws
for character, and shading in sunlight,
Many attempt to imitate the craftsman,
adding their own curves and notches,
all beautiful, but not the same.
Creations of motionless marble,
with more character, and feeling,
Rose marble, smooth, strong, and hot.
I view him as a talented writer. He has less confidence in his abilities.
If you'd like to encourage him to write more, please comment on his blog:
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