Carving Hope Options

[Siren]

Another Revision


Carving Hope

I sit beneath aurora's entrancing hue;
ambrosial blend of amber and copper,
sprayed by soft white clouds.
Sun's slow awakening rays fondle
magnolias and lobelias as they stand--
framing a wooden platform.

The wind whispers adoration
for life.
Smiling, I welcome its kisses
on warm cheeks and lips
as it caresses my entirety.

The new month is born, dearest!
Time for change!

I turn and watch an artist at work.

A stone stands;
perched in the middle of this platform--
waiting for carver to discern its shape.

After days of meditation
he appears before it,
studying rough egdes
by sight, hand and mind--
tracing them with calloused fingers.

The stone silently calls out to him:

Shape me with the eyes of your touch!
Transform me into the beauty you behold!

Tap!
Flecks of dust fall,
carried away by the breeze.

Tap!
Concentration ripples with exertion
as each tender stroke
smoothes another coarse edge.

Tap!
Muscled frown is washed
by beads of salty sweat.

Tap!
Blond hair clings to neck,
as he bends; right and left,
aligning with each new tap.

Tap!
He finally unveils breathtaking art;
true design of hope.

Carefully-- tenderly--
he brushes off remaining dust specks,
petting and revelling at the result of such passionate labor.

He turns,
eyes gleaming, silently asking me,
"Do you like the stone, wish to be..."
Stepping closer with anticipation
I take another glance at this art
now standing in a bed of white chips;

"Yes!
"Mold me!
Change me!"






Revised with much thanks to NINA

I sit beneath aurora's entrancing hue;
ambrosial blend of amber and copper,
sprayed by soft white clouds.
Sun's slow awakening rays fondle
magnolias and lobelias as they stand--
framing a wooden platform.

The wind whispers adoration
for life.
Smiling, I welcome its kisses
on warm cheeks and lips
as it caresses my entirety.

The new month is born, dearest!
Time for change!

I turn and watch an artist at work.

A stone stands;
perched in the midst of this platform--
waiting for carver to discern its shape.

After days of meditation
he appears before it,
studying rough egdes
by sight, hand and mind--
tracing them with calloused fingers.

The stone silently calls out to him:

Shape me with the eyes of your touch!
Transform me into the beauty you behold!

Tap!
Flecks of dust fall,
carried away by the breeze.

Tap!
Concentration ripples with exertion
as each tender stroke
smoothes another coarse edge.

Tap!
Muscled frown is washed
by beads of salty sweat.

Tap!
Blond hair clings to neck,
as he bends; right and left,
aligning with each new tap.

Tap!
He finally unveils breathtaking art;
genuine design of hope.

Carefully-- tenderly--
he brushes off remaining dust specks,
petting and revelling at the result of such passionate labor.

Eyes gleaming
he turns, silently asking me,
"Do you like the stone, wish to be..."

"Yes!
"Mold me!
Change me!"

Stepping closer with anticipation
I take another glance at this art
now standing in a bed of white chips;

statue of hope.






Original
I sit beneath aurora's entrancing hue;
an ambrosial blend of amber and copper,
sprayed by soft white clouds.
The sun's slow awakening rays fondle
magnolias and lobelias as they stand--
framing a wooden platform.

The wind whispers its adoration
for life in my ears.
Smiling, I allow its kisses
on my warm cheeks and lips
as it caresses my entirety.

The new month is born, dearest!
Time for change!

I turn and watch an artist at work.

A stone stands;
perched in the midst of this platform--
waiting for the carver to discern its shape.

After days of meditation
he appears before it,
studying its rough egdes
by sight, hand and mind--
tracing them with calloused fingers.

The stone silently calls out to him:

Shape me with the eyes of your hands!
Transform me into the beauty you behold!

Hit!
Crumbs of dust fall,
are carried away by the breeze.

Hit!
Concentration ripples with exertion
as each tender stroke
crumbles another coarse edge.

Hit!
A muscled frown is washed
by beads of salty sweat.

Hit!
Blond hair clinging to his neck
he bends to the right and left
aligning with each new tap.

Hit!
He finally unveils a piece of breathtaking art,
producing the true design of hope.

Carefully-- tenderly--
he brushes of the remaining dust specks,
petting and revelling at the result of such passionate labor.

Eyes gleaming
he turns to me, silently asking,
"Do you, like the stone, wish to be..."

"Yes!", I reply.
"Mold me!
Change me!"

Stepping closer with anticipation
I take another glance at this art
now standing in a bed of white chips;
a statue of hope.</font>



<!--EDIT|Siren
Reason for Edit: None given|1119711958 -->

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi Dani

This is a lovely positive poem, describing the skill of a master at work, sculpting beauty, bringing stone to life and the girl wishing for the same herself.

 I have a few suggestions for tightening for you to take or dismiss as you wish.

[add] {delete} comment

I sit beneath aurora's entrancing hue;
{an} ambrosial blend of amber and copper,
sprayed by soft white clouds.
{The} {s}[S]un's slow awakening rays fondle
magnolias and lobelias as they stand--
framing {a} wooden platform.

The wind whispers {its} adoration
for life in my ears.
Smiling, I {allow}[welcome] {its} kisses  
on {my} warm cheeks and lips
as it caresses my entirety.

The new month is born, dearest!
Time for change!

I turn and watch an artist at work.

A stone stands;
perched in the midst of this platform--
waiting for {the} carver to discern its shape.

After days of meditation
he appears before it,
studying {its} rough egdes
by sight, hand and mind--
tracing them with calloused fingers.

The stone silently calls out to him:

Shape me with {the eyes of} your hands!  I’m not sure about hands having eyes
Transform me into the beauty you behold!

Hit!
{Crumbs}[?flecks} of dust fall,
{are} carried away by the breeze.

Hit!
Concentration ripples with exertion
as each tender stroke
{crumbles}[smoothes] another coarse edge.

Hit!
{A} {m}[M]uscled frown is washed
by beads of salty sweat.

Hit!
Blond hair cling[s]{ing} to {his} neck[,]
[as]he bends[;]{to the} right and left[,]
aligning with each new tap.

Hit!
He finally unveils {a piece of} breathtaking art,[;]
{producing the} true design of hope.

Carefully-- tenderly--
he brushes of[f] {the} remaining dust specks,
{petting and} revelling at the result of such passionate labor. ..?not sure about petting it seems too sexual
Eyes gleaming
he turns {to me}, silently asking [me],
"Do you{,} like the stone, wish to be..."

"Yes!",{ I reply}.
"Mold me!
Change me!"

Stepping closer with anticipation
I take another glance at this art
now standing in a bed of white chips;

{a} statue of hope.

I also wonder about the use of Hit, perhaps you might think of replacing it with tap or strike.

Thanks for the read, I enjoyed it

Nina

[Ephiny]

Hello Daniah

I really love this poem..could read it over and over..the description of the artist at work, of hope and creation alongside the changing of the season..it's so uplifting and beautifully written

After days of meditation
he appears before it,
studying its rough egdes
by sight, hand and mind--
tracing them with calloused fingers. These lines are so vivid..I could really picture the artist studying the stone, and all of the sense involved

The five short stanzas beginning with "Hit!" are so effective, followed the images of the hard labour and concentration..you could feel the piece coming together!

I love

Carefully-- tenderly--
he brushes of the remaining dust specks,
petting and revelling at the result of such passionate labor.

and

"Yes!", I reply.
"Mold me!
Change me!"

I loved reading this!

[Siren]

Nina,

Hi... I'm so glad you liked the message in this one. :) I am also very grateful for your help on this. It does need tightening up and you have great suggestions.

Now as for the "eyes of your hands" I got that from a sculpture. He told me that when he wants to sculpt he meditates for several days and waits for the stone to tell him what shape it should take. so he sulpts it with the eyes of his touch. There's a spiritual connection with the stone and form it takes...  As for petting, he pets it. It's a work of passion and there is a lot of sensuality in the make here... I hope this clears your thoughts.

Would "eyes of your touch" be better than "eyes of your hands"?

Thanks so much Nina and revisions will be on the way...

Hugs
Dani

[Siren]

Hey Lucie,

Your praise of this peice blew up my head to an enormous size!!! Thank you so much...

I am overly grateful for your sweet comments and am so glad you enjoyed this.

Hugs
Dani

[Guest_Nina_*]

Hi Dani

Thanks for the explanation re: petting.

Would "eyes of your touch" be better than "eyes of your hands"?
Definitely, I think "eyes of your touch" is much better and more poetic.



Nina

[Siren]

Hey Nina,

I'm glad you approve of the change and thanks for the suggestions ot tighten this up.

Hugs
Dani

[Psyche]

Hi Dani !

I'm so glad I dropped by to view this wonderful poem. It's a really enjoyable read and I shall have to re-read with more time to get the full joy of it.

I especially like:
A stone stands;
perched in the midst of this platform--
waiting for the carver to discern its shape.

although I'm not sure whether "midst" is correct here, i thought perhaps "middle" would be more appropriate. I'm probably wrong, just a thought, Dani.

I love the idea of the carver discovering the shape of his artwork in the stone.

He finally unveils a piece of breathtaking art,
producing the true design of hope.

This is a spectacular idea, beautifully expressed.

Your ending is also brilliant, also poignant.
Thank you for sharing this wonderful piece, Dani,

hugs,
Sylvia  :butterfly:

[Guest_Toumai_*]

Dear Dani,

I saw this when you posted originally, but then it slipped by me before I could say how wonderful I find it; warm, sensual and uplifting, with some wonderful descriptions.

Tap!
Concentration ripples with exertion
as each tender stroke
smoothes another coarse edge.

Tap!
Muscled frown is washed
by beads of salty sweat.

Whoah! What an artist (you, I mean, Dani my friend)

My only nit would be as Sylvia says: 'in the midst' suggests surrounded by something. Since the block is alone and proud on it's platform, 'middle' might be better (tho not so 'poetic' in alliteration)?

Hugs and thanks for such a read!

Fran

[Cybele]

Good mornin Dani,

Firstly I love your notes about actually knowing a sculptor. I would love to have a conversation with him. The comparison of a block of white stone and a sheet of paper on which to write a poem as lovely as yours would be engrossing!

This is a  beautifully crafted poem, carved with love.

I love your revision and have just a couple of thoughts to offer.

Eyes gleaming
he turns, silently asking me,
"Do you like the stone, wish to be..."

Perhaps

He turns,
eyes gleaming, silently asking me,
"Do you like the stone, wish to be..."

"Yes!
"Mold me!
Change me!"

Stepping closer with anticipation
I take another glance at this art
now standing in a bed of white chips;

statue of hope.

I wonder if it would have slightly more impact if you transposed the last two stanzas?  

Eyes gleaming
he turns, silently asking me,
"Do you like the stone, wish to be..."

Stepping closer with anticipation
I take another glance at this art
now standing in a bed of white chips;

"Yes!
"Mold me!
Change me!"

statue of hope.

Another lovely poem to copy to my files as a keeper, thank you Dani.    

[Siren]

Hello Sylvia,

Thanks so much for dropping in and I'm truly glad you enjoyed this poem.

I do agree with you on your suggestion of changed "midst", but I was thinking to use "center" instead of middle. what do you think Sylvia?

Thank you so much for pointing out you favorite part of the poem. Talking to this carver was so insightful. :)


Hugs and catch you around....

Dani

[Siren]

Dearest Fran,

You are just so so sweet! :) Thank you so much for the lovely comments on this one and I have made a suggestion on changing ''midst'' to ''center''... what do you think?

Whoah! What an artist (you, I mean, Dani my friend)

AWWWWWWW! Careful Fran, my head may swell up and get too heavy from your sweet words . :) This was inspired by an artist so I'm very honored you found me to be one too.

Hugs and thanks for commenting :)
Dani

[Siren]

Sweetest Grace,

My sculptur friend lives in the US and I knew him as a poet and then discovered that he sculpted. He grew up with apache in an arapaho (spelling?) reservation. He learned medidation and used it to help him in his sculpting. He's very spiritual in many ways. So one day we were chatting about sculpting and he told me how he went about it and inspired this poem. when he read he said it was weird how it seemed like I was truly watching him sculpt.

I am a bit keen about your suggestions here and I'll have to read this again with a clearer mind. it's after 5 am now and l haven't been to bed yet, so till tomorrow.

Thank you so much for all the help and the sweet comments.

Dani

[Psyche]

Hello Sylvia,

Thanks so much for dropping in and I'm truly glad you enjoyed this poem.

I do agree with you on your suggestion of changed "midst", but I was thinking to use "center" instead of middle. what do you think Sylvia?

Thank you so much for pointing out you favorite part of the poem. Talking to this carver was so insightful. :)


Hugs and catch you around....

Dani

Dear Dani, I've just dropped my keyboard, no kidding, it's got to be trashed... and tomorrow is Sunday. I love your poem, as well as the story behind it, about the real sculptor. Two artists !! I think "center" would do fine, but "middle" sounds OK also... Meditation is also good for inspiration, to write poetry, i try to medidate often. Shall do so now, thiskeyboard is driving me nuts... Hugs and congrats on this truly striking poem, Sylvia    

[Siren]

Sylvia

YOu dropped your keyboard? Hate that, though I do believe your keyboard deserved what it got... LOL!

Well just between you and me, I have often dreamt of torturing my previous PC for a number of crimes against me. It dragged its tail on every menial task I set it to do and well just plain loved to freeze, just to make me mad. You know how it is when your pc just acts dumb! ARGGGGG! I lost so many files because of its carelessness and finally had to give it the boot.

Now, a laptop has taken its place, but I do sometimes find myself a bit nostalgic for the first friend I had that introduced me to the cyber world and helped me rekindle my love of writing. :( Sigh...

Anyway, thanks for getting back here and I'm planning on doing some more revisions by tonight. Hopefully.

Have a lovely Sunday hon.

Hugs
Dani

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hi Daniah.  

I really enjoyed this piece - tapping into the mind and design of a sculptor - I think the repetitition of the word TAP really makes this all the more enjoyable.

Here below I offer two suggestions for your piece to ponder.

Cheers!
Cleo  

{add} [delete]

The wind whispers adoration
for life [in my ears].

and

[true] {genuine} design of hope

[Siren]

Hey Lori,

Thanks for the suggestion. I agree with you on them and will make the changes...

Hugs
Dani