By Roger Wallock
copyright 2007

The artist grasps the gift of creation

in his cramped and curled hand.

The pen sculpts the ivory clay

molding the void into vivid bands.

Memories leap out of the ink

Onto the pale margined canvas.

The wheel turns and his fingers fly

shaping thoughts and feelings into form.

Images are chiseled into the granite

As fragments fall to the floor.

Shards streak through the air;

statuesque phrases slowly appear.

His struggling soul emerges,

rising out of the ashes of the words.

The final piece groans and stretches

aching for the chance to be heard.

He leans back admiring his work

awestruck be his creative choice.

No museum has ever dared to hold

any treasure as powerful as his voice.