Pygmalion at Twilight
Like a fiery dawn came we forth unto
Our place on pedestals above the dunes
Of disappointment – longing dared to paint
A fairer portrait, distorted by the wait;
A gilded goddess ye straight forth became,
And I, a worshipper to give ye name!
Ages we walked along the marbled walls
Of Olympus, as we dared to scale the mounts
O’er commoners, undaunted lest we fall.
There was no challenge we could not surmount –
Or so we thought – until the greater view
Revealed the tarnish on the gold we held;
And like two stalwart oaks, beheld the truth:
To love no less – though idols be dispelled!
New Treasures at Dawn
Discovery of New Treasures in the Sand
Gives purpose to our Walk along the Surf –
For as the Mirror meets the Sky there stirs
A wistfulness within – that Spans the Shores.
So Horizon to Horizon – both Wet and Dry –
Are born of common differences they share.
As undiscerning contrasts brought to Light,
Delivered in Light’s most honest naked form –
As Rainbows are pure beauty born of Tears;
Bearing priceless treasures spawned by God –
As pretty shells unbroken offer no new promise,
To make new sand to hide more priceless treasures.
Only Heaven’s Eggs are protected from conception –
As all Good Angels watch with Great Expectations!
Keith Allan Jones is proudly related to Edgar Allan Poe family – who adopted young Edgar Poe – and was himself raised in a family who loved poetry and literature. He got his first Bachelors degree in Literature from Arkansas State University, where he started writing poetry in styles of Shelley sonnets, then moved on to more innovative freestyle poetry forms; and then got degrees in psychology and medical school at Drexel. He lives in Dallas, TX and is semi-retired after a career as a principal scientist for NASA, DOD, FDA, EPA and US Dept. of Ed., and now writes poetry, novels and screenplays. He has recently authored the novel “Tea and Frankenstein: Mary Shelley and the Prometheans” – about poetry of Mary, Percy Shelley, Lord Byron and others; and is currently working on a novel about poetry of Edgar Allan Poe in his early married years leading up to “The Raven”.
Though the sculpture was at first lifeless and unresponsive to his desperate passion, divine offices rendered it otherwise, and she then graciously and wantonly submitted herself to him. This was the moment in life unrivaled in its perfection, when that which is most long for and desperately desired delivers itself into one s hands. It is also a moment which never lasts. On the other side of this incredibly fulfilled wish, is a sea of the darkest horror waiting to unleash its tides. One wonders that Pygmalion did not feel a cold hand brushing against the back of his neck .