Camille A. Balla: "The Poet and His Craft"

He sculpts, carves, whittles
a fresh block of words
he’s been led to
by winds that whisper
or make him shiver.

Slowly, lines take shape,               
come alive with sounds
the ear cannot hear;
reflections only seen
by the inner eye;
raw, natural scents
from the tree itself.

He pulls colors from a rainbow,         
the surf, or maybe the sand;
at times he adds moisture
from a tear.

And as with raw wood,
he whittles—whittles, going with                         
the grain—braces the wood                                
to flatten a knot, smiles at its
character coming through—
will make a good piece.

He sands until is all-over smooth,
seals it with the joy of the craft,
a fine piece that holds
a part of himself—

now transformed into form
     that lets the poem speak



"The Poet and His Craft" by Camille A. Balla. Text as published in Simple Awakenings (Linebyline Press, 2010). © Camille A. Balla. Presented here by poet submission.

Art credit: Untitled photograph of wood grain by Stefan Schweihofer.