The Chisel : A Poem

The chisel chips away,
knocking out a rough hewn shape,
flakes of stone, once my own,
cast to the ground.

I wanted so badly to belong,
stay stone clasped to the bedrock,
quartz among quartz,
marble among marble,

After all, diamonds grow underground,
Sapphire crystals bloom like slow flowers in the dark,
but beauty unseen is unloved.

The chisel chips away,
knocking out a rough hewn shape,
With hopes and fears, which linger near,
of what I will become.

I hope you enjoyed this poem.  Should I post more poetry here?  Feel free to comment on it and tell me what you think.

I know I promised the results of my writing prompt from last week but I’m still deciding on what to do with it.  I’ve got one finished and I like it but I am wondering if I should send it to some publications and see if it has legs there before floating it here for you guys.  I will probably write another flash fiction on the same prompt so I can at least share one here no matter what I decide.  Have a great weekend, my Inklings!

Robert JV Christensen

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