A Poem of My Own Composition (Accidental Poetry Month, Part 22)

I write a lot of things -- SF, comics scripts, history papers, blog posts -- and have plans, schemes and hopes to write a lot of other things as well; -- but not, for the most part, poetry. I like to think I write prose well; I can't bring myself to think I write poetry well. Generally speaking.

But I did go through a period (nearly two decades ago now) of writing poems, in which I wrote perhaps a dozen that I thought ranged from the pretty good to the good (tout court). (There were also another dozen or so that showed promise, although they never got beyond the needing revision/incomplete work phase.) I even tried to publish a few, with no luck (although I wasn't very persistent nor very realistic about where I might be published the first time out). But since it's not an area I am currently planning to pursue (although who knows) I thought I'd share one with my Noble Readers as a climax (or anti-climax) to my Originally-Accidental-But-Long-Since-Quite-Deliberate Poetry Month™ that I've been indulging in.

If you like it, or even find it interesting, leave an encouraging comment, and maybe I'll post another.

Midas

So will I end:
Stand overlooking the vast reed plain
Bent in periodic waves by the wind;
Eternally poised,
With a solid sort of dignity--
The wisdom of a king
Etched upon a not quite human face;
Lifelike-- once-life-- the finest
Details of scarf and nail
Preserved in glimmering gold:
Eyes on the mountain,
Hand carelessly on a thigh;
Statue, not carved,
But an ellipsis in time:
Iridescent flesh
Made solid by my own caress.

-- Stephen Saperstein Frug (1994)