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Poetry 1st Place: The Latin Stone by Alexander Goble

 

The Latin Stone By Alex Goble

The cat paced by in a hurry to somewhere,

and I noticed the stone sitting there alone,

and I thought of those who have passed here before.

Yearning to diverge, I stopped to listen.

 

Remembering that in October I leaned over that pile

of broken marble, spreading out in white waves

with pink shards swimming under the foaming crests.

A Hellenic battle at sea, a contest to be discovered.

 

Searching meticulously, I found one

that I knew to be the most beautiful.

I took it home and housed it in my bedroom,

as if it was better than other stones.

 

Now it sits here among the rocks in the yard,

a white whale among a sea of brown ennui

speaking of sculpture and poetry to those who pass

but never stop to hear its classical calls.

 

So forgive me today

as I bow over this marble,

and forgive me tomorrow,

there is nothing more I need.

 

Give me the lonely marble any day,

with its dead language,

give me epics that stretch splendidly any time,

give me Horace, or maybe Virgil and a bit of Ovid.

 

Nobody knows this little piece of marble,

but oh, how I thought I knew,

looking down to a solitary and nameless stone

so very many years in the making.

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