The Poetry Kit

Competitions

Courses

Events

Funding

How-to Books

Magazines

Organisations

Poets

Publishers

Who's Who

Workshops

Home

Search

 

  Bob Cooper
   
      When Statues Chat

They stretch and yawn, clamber down from plinths,
from lintels, canopies and balustrades,
to crowd into some seldom visited square
where they murmur in their ancient languages
of what they've seen since the last time
they gathered like this. Expressionless faces
begin to smile, some give stone cracking laughs
at the follies of people, their fickle moods,
the arguments, quiet confessions of love,
while others dance slowly or sit and play cards
until dawn pinks the sky when they sigh, return
and hoist themselves heavily to where they're seen
so high above us with looks on their faces
we can never reach, so single minded, so alone.

 

Back   Next