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Behold! knees curled up to his chin
Head down, his empty bowl shaken
Fatigued and languished with weary mind
On penniless status for his bread...
Pity, even unaware of somebody playing upon
Poor beggar, a pose of hapless repose
An act of begging on loss
But an utility for a sculptor behind
The chisel shaping up poverty well formed
Benefitted is the sculptor in bucks
Soiled emotions to the beggar glue
His concaved belly nothing to pursue
Unnoticeably trespassed the sculptor to crop
A faint sitting target artistically on whop
Sold off by re-makes, the sculptor's ooh!
In a rich man's house seated respectfully
Is the pauper carved carefully
Out of a heavy stone looking meaningfully
With unshaken bowl for pennies hopefully!
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
The Sound of Silence
I’m walking down the street
and I hear the sculptor in his house
working on his statue of Krishna
and the chisel rings out on the stone
like a bell that wants to tell you something:
the stone saying, I am perfectly made for this;
the chisel saying, I am perfectly made for this;
the sculptor saying, this is prayer;
Krishna saying, I shall enter this.
And I hear in the sound of the chisel on the stone,
as sure as I know my own name,
that the sculptor is listening to all this too.
The bell-like sound lingers in the air
as if the air would keep it for ever
as the air’s prayer. It’s music.
The clearer the sound
of his striking chisel on stone,
the deeper the silence
as if sound and silence between them
know a secret: that sounds like this
can do anything in the world;
even call Krishna with their music
to play at being stone for us.
The stone’s laughing also:
playing at being Krishna.
They’re both laughing.
The sculptor is smiling too.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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No person who is not a great sculptor or painter can be an architect. If he is not a sculptor or painter, he can only be a builder.
quote by John Ruskin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yourself you shape
Yourself the stone
Yourself the sculptor
Yourself the chisel
Yourself you shape
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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For a Statue of Æscalupius
Far as Miletus travelled Paean's son;
There to be guest of Nicias, guest of one
Who heals all sickness; and who still reveres
Him, for his sake this cedarn image rears.
The sculptor's hand right well did Nicias fill;
And here the sculptor lavished all his skill.
poem by Theocritus
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Guido Sebaldi
Guido Sebaldi the mason
Worked at a house of stone:
Guido Sebaldi the mason
Sand at his work alone.
Till a stranger, he said unto him
As he hammer'd the stone one day'
'Guido Sebaldi the mason,
Hark to the words I say!'
'Leave thou this work, fit only
For oxen that draw the plough:
No longer Sebaldi the mason,
Guido the sculptor thou!'
Then Guido Sebaldi the mason
Look'd on his work in shame.
And 'Lo,' he said, 'I am lusty,
I will build me a noble name.'
Guido Sebaldi the sculptor
Toil'd till his heart grew sore.
Guido Sebaldi the sculptor
Sang at his work no more.
Vainly Sebaldi the mason
Hammer'd the senseless stone.
Vainly Sebaldi the mason
Sigh'd at his work alone.
His hands were ready and skillful,
And his days with toil were rife,
But the soul of the master was needed
To waken the stone to life.
Sadly Sebaldi the mason
Went back to the house of stone;
And his brow once more grew cheery
As he sat at his work alone.
But yet he was always thinking
Of hopes that were long since o'er;
And Guido Sebaldi the mason
Sang at his work no more.
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Unintelligent Design
An hour a day,
sometimes more,
I chipped away
with mallet and chisel
on a block of marble
I found in Carrara
and shipped to New York
on the deck of a trawler.
I offered the marble
to a famous sculptor
who told me he works
in granite only
so I grabbed his beret
and one of his smocks
and said I'd sculpt
the block myself
with whittling skills
picked up as a kid
from a drunken uncle
named Whittling Sid.
Several weeks later,
to my surprise,
I finished the bust
of a chimpanzee
simply by wielding
mallet and chisel
the way I wield
pencil and eraser
when hewing a poem.
Working with marble
or working with words,
a sculptor or poet
proves less is more
by chipping away
until something emerges
upright and walking
with a soul of its own.
poem by Donal Mahoney
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Wait, things are shaping up
I approached a sculptor the other day
For carving a statue of
Gautama Buddha
He asked me a number of questions
Some of them were far stretched
Though I answered all of them
I was thinking within that
All these details were unnecessary
He could read my mind and said
These details were needed to help me
Come out with what exactly you were looking for
He suggested my coming to him
Two weeks later
Why so long and he said
Wait things are shaping up
Two weeks later
I saw practically no progress
He showed me a granite block
Which he said he would carve
As Gautama Buddha
He suggested me to visit him
Two weeks later
“Do you not think we are delaying? ”
I asked and he said
Wait things are shaping up
I went to him as suggested
No change at all
The block was under water
And carving had not started
He said that this curing process
Would help him understand
The quality of the block
And he opined
That we were lucky in
Selecting the right granite
And he suggested my visiting him
A week later
“Yes, I know you are wondering
As to why it is taking so much time”
How he could say even without my telling that
He continued
Wait, things are shaping up
A week later
No great change
But the block got castled here and there
No where near my expectations
“Come after three days and see”
But, he assured
Wait, things are shaping up
I made four visits later
At intervals of three, two and one days
I could not make out head or tail
Of what was happening
But, each time I returned
Hearing his words
Wait, things are shaping up
I was wondering
Are things really shaping up
Or am I being fooled
I did not visit him for
Full three months
As I was sure that
I would not be able to appreciate
The progress that the sculptor
Would be claiming to have made
One day, there was a call from him
“Come and see your Gautama Buddha”
I was not excited
I visited his place in all reluctance
And was preparing to hear
Wait, things are shaping up
But, what a surprise
Saw my Gautama Buddha
In a shape and carving
Beyond my belief
And I was not able to control my excitement
“I know you are wondering how this could be possible
But, you know, I was telling each time you visited that
Wait, things are shaping up”
We all do prayers seeking some change
And we wonder as to when the change would fructify
God, like a sculptor is shaping things
But, he never tells
Wait, things are shaping up
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Sonnet: The Souls on the Streets at Night
Pity the beggar lying by roadside;
Pavement’s his bed; a stone, pillow for head!
With ill-clad children/wife scattered beside,
No one can tell if he’s alive or dead!
Pity the soul, whose dwelling is pavement,
Victim of men/ insects/beasts/ wind and rain!
His roof is formed by the vast firmament;
His only wealth- a begging bowl and cane!
Pity the street-children and people lost;
Their suff’ring’s endless, more so when diseased;
Nothing frightens them, not even a ghost;
There’s none to bury them, when they’re deceased.
Pity the man of poverty in street!
God dwells in him; God surely, will he meet.
poem by John Celes
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With a painter or a sculptor, one cannot begin to alter his works, but an architect has to put up with anything, because he makes utility objects - the building is there to be used, and times change.
quote by Arne Jacobsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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"A sculptor's stone bread is everlasting," thinks the humbled baker.
aphorism by Valeriu Butulescu from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. Ziem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.
quote by William C. Bryant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.
quote by Michelangelo
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Two Deep Silences..
Two deep Silences-
One, of meditative Sculptor
Other, of the Boulder
In timeless penance
Melt in intense passion
Through rhythmic jingles
Of dancing chisel.
A marvellous Beauty
After months of
Labour pains
Is born
Out of its womb!
O! is it the dream
Of damsel rock?
Or, is it Full Moon
Churned out of
Two silences
By sharp clinks
Of cute chisel?
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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If the world would only build temples to Machinery in the abstract then everything would be perfect. The painter and sculptor would have plenty to do, and could, in complete peace and suitably honored, pursue their trade without further trouble.
quote by Wyndham Lewis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A thing done has a head. (The exultation of an ancient sculptor on his satisfactorily completing the head of his statue.)
The best artist has that thought alone Which is contained within the marble shell; The sculptor's hand can only break the spell To free the figures slumbering in the stone.
quote by Michelangelo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am a sculpture
I am sculptor and I sculpt all day
To make a man, a corresponding man, resembling those who were first
The zenith brought us light, brought us food
The zenith brought us heartache a broken charm not soothed
I am a sculptor and I sculpt all day
Carving, sculpting bits of common
It looks fashionable, it’s like ordinary
It looks like a conventional man, he will be popular
Ten English men
Ten English women
Everybody is cool
Everybody is true
Wearing the same clothes
As the sculpture wears to
Battle the outsiders their animals
Raging pit bulls with chains
Look they have a different face
Let’s us murder them a great golden genocide race
The battle passed
And so did the time
But one thing changes and changes and changes and changes and changes and changes
The sculpture really enjoyed their style
He had new clothes
He had acceptance
Battle the outsiders their animals
Unwanted souls shaken from their cage
Look they have different accents
Let’s us murder them drag their tongues from their foolish sayings
The battle passed
And so did the time
But one thing changes and changes and changes and changes and changes and changes
The sculpture really liked that accent
He had new sayings
He had acceptance
Battle the outsiders their animals
Loaded guns with reasons to shoot
Look they have different smells
Let’s us murder their nose’s, piecing through, let us destroy these things they do
The battle passed
And so did the time
But one thing changes and changes and changes and changes and changes and changes
The sculpture really liked those smells
He had new scents
He had acceptance
The English gang turned around and witnessed a changing slant
The sculpture had changed but how
That’s cool, that’s it
We need to be like the sculpture is
I am sculptor and sculpt all day
To sculpt a man
An intelligent man
Living life and giving all he can
We can’t undo reality
Were pressed hard down on fast forward
There was never a pure bred
But there still isn’t a pure acceptance head
poem by Joe Taylor
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Sculpting Krishna (2)
His parents guarded the temple,
answered questions; the child
wandered, looked, later read
all that was said;
now, he selects the stone,
listening all the time, hoping that
he hears the voice of Krishna say,
take this piece…
sharpens his chisel; prays;
with each tap, a chiselled prayer
rings out the question; magnified; or diminished?
chips away – outside himself, inside himself –
all that is not Krishna;
until finally, all that awaits
is the faintest sound of flute, of lightest laughter,
heard within the sculptor’s inner ear:
stone pretending to be Krishna;
Krishna, pretending to be stone.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Memorial
Canonised when dead, cannonaded when in life,
Lofty your thoughts that savour of content
But loftier the craftmanship
More congruent in symmetry
Than ever are our warring senses-
All in silent watch -martyr.
Not your lust of martyrdom but the sculptor's chisel
Leaves a living name. world wonder made.
Sad, Time and with it, centuries fail to see
Not light of fulfilment in your eyes
But hollow worn in stone,
History's daintily cut lies.
poem by Yoonoos Peerbocus
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The Greek sculptor - I don't think he was very different from any of us.
quote by Michael Tippett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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