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| Click board to better see its wrinkles |
By Moristotle
Did it sternly proclaim,
or did it utter softly?
Did it warn, or reassure?
Its wrinkles tell the answers.
Whatever weighed and tightened
humans’ minds and muscles
has dried and stretched the wood,
its wrinkles attesting it is so.
The grain has taken on itself
every passing human’s stress,
absorbed their woes into itself
and stored them in its grooves.
Through all the burdens it has born,
the board still yet invites,
assures, and takes upon itself
all the cares that pass its zone.
| Copyright © 2023 by Moristotle |
What a sublime conceit! While I admire the alliteration, what I find wild is that I hear end rhymes that I don't see. I would like to express my gratitude to that board (and no, I'm not being silly) for taking my stress away for a bit. This is a grand case of words and music alchemizing a brainthought into reality. Yes, I hear music, song, especially in the first verse.
ReplyDelete
DeletePaddy, I pass your thanks along to Artesia, for I hardly did anything to write those 16 lines besides take dictation. And I think that whoever designed that artwork deserves some thanks. Only hours after finishing the final draft of the poem, I touched the board’s surface and found it to be perfectly smooth, not a literal wrinkle anywhere on its surface. In other words, the caption to the image lies; there are no wrinkles really, except in the artist’s rendering and in the spell cast by the poet on the mind of the reader/observer.