Creatures LinedA Poem by Matthew Jones
What fun! the creatures made behind
The sculpting of our hands: The silhouette carnivore, crouched, Preying on the man, Or if we are less sinister, --those seldom times we are-- A black bird, flapping through the light-- Beauty without a heart. How quick their fleeing from the world! --Takes but a slip of mind-- And we don’t weep, although we should: We too are creatures lined. For all are shadow puppets behind The hasty Master’s hand, And all for his amusement--yes-- That hopeful Master Plan. © 2011 Matthew Jones |
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Added on July 5, 2011 Last Updated on July 5, 2011 Author
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