It is a curious experience <br />And one you"re bound to know, though probably <br />In other realms than that of literature, <br />Though I speak of poems now, assuming <br />That you are interested, otherwise, <br />Of course, you wouldn"t be reading this. <br />It is strange to come across a poem <br />In an old magazine, perhaps, and fail <br />At first to see that it"s your own. <br />Sometimes you think, grateful and surprised, <br />"That"s really not too bad", or gloomily: <br />"Many have done as well and far, far better". <br />Or, in despair, "My God that"s terrible. <br />What was I thinking of to publish it". <br />And then you start to wonder how the great <br />Poets felt, seeing, surprised, their poems <br />As strangers, beautiful. And how do all the <br />Makers feel to see their creatures live: <br />The carpenter, the architect, the man who <br />Crochets intricate embroideries <br />Of steel across the sky. And how does God <br />Feel, looking at his poems, his creatures? <br />The swelling inhalation of plump hills, <br />Plumage of poplars on the pale horizon, <br />Fishleap flashing in pools cool as silver, <br />Great horses haunched with glossy muscles <br />And birds who spray their song like apple juice <br />And the soft shock of snow. He must feel good <br />Surprised again by these. But what happens <br />When He takes a look at Man? Does He say, <br />"That"s really not too bad", Or does He, as I fear, <br />Wince ruefully and mutter to Himself: <br />"What was I thinking of publishing that one"? <br /> <br /> <br />Submitted by Andrew Mayers<br /><br />Vernon Scannell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/makers-and-creatures/
