With the deeps study on contemporary poetics, I have found some of my old poetry to be… ick. so I am trying some edits.

The Warrior, Poet, Sage (original)

The warrior, poet, sage—here all are shown,
Their likeness carved, their legacy made known.
When dawn first broke, the poet’s voice arose,
The painter’s light in living color glows.

The sculptor’s hand from marble shapes the soul,
Each art a flame that makes the spirit whole.
Born of the earth, yet tempered by the mind,
They leave immortal beauty for mankind.

In marble halls, by murmuring fountains’ grace,
Their works still breathe, each form a living face.
Art’s kindred spirits—painting, verse, and song—
Have shaped a world where timeless dreams belong.

The Warrior, Poet, Sage (Better?)

The warrior, poet, sage—here all are shown,
Their likeness carved, (too handsome) their legacy made known.
When dawn first broke, the poet’s voice arose, (Yet we hear our own.)
The painter’s light in living color shows altered truth—

The sculptor’s hand from marble shapes the soul, (supperficialy)
Each art a flame that makes the spirit whole, (in pieces.)
Born of the earth, yet tempered by the mind,
They leave immortal beauty for mankind (and womankind.)

In painted halls, marble fountains break the edifice,
Their works breathe, each form a living face.
Art’s kindred spirits—painting, verse, and song—
They, hoping timelessness prolong.