From my vantage point I can see
Throngs of people milling about
Usually they stop to look at me
Because I have that kind of clout
Some give me a mere passing glance
Others give me a long, hard stare
Some comment on my expression and stance
Some would love to touch me, but do not dare
I am used to being thoroughly scrutinized
Discussions on my attributes I hear
You would think by now I’d be desensitized
I already have a permanent sneer…
All sorts of opinions I have heard
Some exalted, some just ridiculous
Explanations abstract that sound absurd,
I am used to attention assiduous..
Like a performer on stage perpetually
I have been basking in public attention
I have immortalized my creator actually
Of his talent, I am a representation.
Now that you are at the end of the poem, let me reveal the somewhat cryptic identity of the narrator- this poem is written from the point of view of a famous statue- I had “David” at Accademia in Florence, Italy in mind. He was created my Michelangelo in the 16th century.
Replica of “David” outside the Palazzo Vecchio, Florence, Italy