Writing.com, a gem cutter's store.
From his cave of lapidary with walls of alabaster,
the muse smiles
at The Story Master,
his art --holding everyone together--
not too easy to attain
or to start.
With the roll of a drum
Writing.com latch opens; artisans rush in.
Here nothing's commonplace, nothing's for granted;
mountains of gems
in gem cutters' store with humanizing stance,
capturing the light in each chisel,
speaking in tongues, with rhyme,
finest shapes etched in stone.
The dignity of blank verse
with each carat metered and cut with care:
sonnets in emerald dreams,
ballads in ruby,
haiku in jade,
opal, to support the critique,
topaz, a course in poetic diction,
a lover's addiction,
simile chips, metaphors in bits,
free verse to lyrics,
while cadence writhes in black onyx,
a garnet, rose of prose,
and authors list in amethyst.
Aiding the craftsmen in distress,
diamond solitaire, The Story Mistress, clearing the air;
let there be no mistake, here nothing is square.
Approaching the truth from the throne of fancy,
with all the joy and all the pain,
a bright lamp lights up the screens.