Writings and Witterings



‘Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children[1],’
sterile, frustrated, it comes to decay.
Michelangelo wept when he found perfection,
took up his hammer to no more delay.
None stayed his hand as he lunged at his David,
breaking his heart on that cool summer day,
birthing his talent the last chip was chipped off
the warm marble block with its dust sweet bouquet.
His dismay; tears on his cheeks, sugar spray.
 confection of lies,
conception of lies,
they tried to do it away, yet
David stands today.

Polly Robinson © 2013



[1] From ‘The Munich Mannequins’ by Sylvia Plath


11 thoughts on “Michelangelo

  1. He was a great artist. I’ll be seeing the David in December. I like the rhyme in this poem. Nicely done Polly 🙂


  2. Very powerful idea! Good one!


  3. yeah..i can relate…everything too perfect just makes me wanna run…there’s beauty in imperfection and the great artists knew…and the great life artists know as well


  4. An incredible poem, Polly, I love how other poets can inspire us! This was a vivid reconstruction of the fervidity suffered by a god of the renaissance in his pusuit of perfection. ‘Confection of lies’ is a magnificent concept and the whole poem deserves a larger audience, I loved this and hope others will appreciate the angst and mania so beautifully cuddled by such a wonderful wordsmith’s words.


    • Ooh! gobsmacked for a mo! *collects self* Sylvia Plath is a great favourite, so it was lovely to find a line that inspired me to write about a different aspect of life, though similar, and about one of my heros.

      Thank you for your words, Kieran, they mean a great deal.


  5. Super interesting poem. I agree with Plath but I had never thought of Michelangelo taking such a view but it also makes a kind of artistic sense. Your form also works very well. K.


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