{"id":1126,"date":"2012-01-16T00:59:46","date_gmt":"2012-01-16T00:59:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/?p=1126"},"modified":"2017-07-11T21:28:08","modified_gmt":"2017-07-11T21:28:08","slug":"child-among-metal-sculptures-by-dwe-scott","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/child-among-metal-sculptures-by-dwe-scott\/","title":{"rendered":"Child Among Metal Sculptures by DWE Scott"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/h1>\n

Child Among Metal Sculptures<\/h1>\n

by DWE Scott<\/p>\n

Roll the metal sculptures out;
\nShake out their gnarled limbs;
\nLoosen their terrible torsos;
\nLet the air be filled with horrible clankings;
\nLet it grow rank with sulphur smells
\nAnd be splattered with blue bruises and yellow flames.<\/p>\n

True they scare the children,
\nBut the tortured faces are necessary I’m afraid
\nAnd digestible if spied from the laced shadows
\nUnder the trees of a bright afternoon.<\/p>\n

Unfold your hand dear one
\nAnd you will find in it the curled nature of all beginnings,
\nPink and shy,
\nLonging, perhaps, for the absence of light.
\nThe boy’s copper hair is like a mist covered sun,
\nSuch a bold red to be exhibited before these consuming engines.
\nKeep him back here, behind us,
\nWhere his eyes, round as moons,
\nCan examine the grass and bits of stick, his playthings.<\/p>\n

Ours are gone now,
\nBut this boy, see how grave he is, see his pale, shining skin.
\nNo human heart can resist him,
\nNone can avoid becoming victims of his loveliness, his beauty.<\/p>\n

###<\/p>\n

I live in Winnipeg, Manitoba in the same house I have been living in for thirty years. I am married with grown children. I paint and write short stories as well as write poetry.<\/p>\n

I publish a blog – www.storiesdwescott.blogspot<\/a> .com<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Child Among Metal Sculptures by DWE Scott Roll the metal sculptures out; Shake out their gnarled limbs; Loosen their terrible torsos; Let the air be filled with horrible clankings; Let it grow rank with sulphur smells And be splattered with blue bruises and yellow flames. True they scare the children, But the tortured faces are…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[123,319],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1126","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-123","category-moon-poem"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t