"delk" poems
A JEWEL AWAKENS
What will the next blow
bring to me....
which facet of life
now turns
to the shaping tool
in the Master's hand
(If one doesn't crack, one learns...)
You'd have thought me of
no use at all
long ago
when i was chosen
one day in the field
Then held to the light
examined and turned
Was there value
that this stone could yield?
The Master
must have thought
"Yes"
for He carried me home
and decided
what my shape should be
Then a piece at a time
began chipping away
at the flaws
which were all over me
At first confused
by the blows and the grinding
i felt sorely used
and complained
i could tell life had changed
from the days in the field
but as yet
couldn't guess what i'd gained
With the passage of time
i began to detect
the work had a rhythm and flow
What i'd thought of as pain
was a different plane
of existence i didn't know
Then
bit by bit
i too could see
that i was becoming
a Jewel
How glad i was
that i'd not escaped
those first abrasions
of God's sharp Shaping Tool
When will all the work be done?
i've got no way of knowing
But now and then
in the heat of the grinding
i almost think that i'm glowing
Just a bit perhaps
a shine, a spark
a twinkle here or there
But Hope
is what i have the most of
for i'm
in the Master's care
No longer lingering
in the field
trampled in all the mire
On the Master's bench
i await His grind
and polish
to release the fire
that is bound within the Opal's vein
That sparks the Amethyst’s gleam
That shimmers in the star
of the Sapphire's soul
That sparks the Ruby's beam.....
What kind of a Jewel will i be, You say?
Who cares
'Tis more than enough for me
To be shaped by the tool
in the Master's hand
To know He has Chosen me
Curtis Delk Hicks (last name changed in 1991 to "Rose")
1984/85
(i think this is my favorite Poem
written by my very own self!)
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 8:31 PM UTC
The Grandfather
walks slowly
using his staff
but not
too noticeably
His cloak
once a
Regal Purple
with trim of
Gold and Scarlet
is now
just a shadow
of its
former grandeur
He does not dwell
on the past
but occasional
memories
of nearly forgotten
victories
still present
themselves...
whole novels in verse
preserved
and translated still
Marvels
of new thought
made accessible to
the non-reading masses
through memorized songs
At first
he had to teach himself
to avoid the bitterness
of being shunted aside
forgotten by the very
“Arts” he had actually
opened the door for
He had hewn trails
of appreciation
in human consciousness
where none had
previously existed
With the passing
of ages
he dreams once again
of seeing a stirring of
Poetic desire
Painted Canvas
Carved Stone
and Music
will then hold doors
open for him…
Computer Children
dance in circles
chanting rhymes
that were
inspired of him
before the
printing press
was dreamed of
Now he sees
the wheel-within-a wheel
of his own path
the spirals and circles
that encompass all things
the reassurance that
even though
forgotten of men
nothing
worthwhile
is ever
left behind
Curtis Delk Rose
03-22-03 & 24-10-16
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 9:11 PM UTC