If I had been a bricklayer I'd still have been a journeyman.
quote by Fred L. Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The only other thing that interested me as a kid was being a bricklayer. So if I hadn't become an actress, I would probably be a bricklayer.
I look upon myself as a musical bricklayer with architectural aspirations.
quote by Robert Mayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think of myself as a journeyman actress. I will attempt almost anything that I think that I can bring off. It could be almost anything.
quote by Angela Lansbury
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Journeyman
From the red sky of the east
To the sunset in the west
We have cheated deathAnd he has cheated us
But that was just a dream
And this is what it means
We are sleeping and we'll dream for evermore
And the fragment remains of our memories
And the shadows remain with our hands
Deep grey, came to mourn
All the colours of the dawn
Will this Journeymans day be his last?
I do what I want
And I say what I want
And no one can take it away
I do what I want
And I say what I want
And no one can take it away
But the memory still remains
All the past years not so strange
Our winter times are like a silent shroud
And the heartbeat of the day
Drives the mist away
And winter's not the only dream around
In your life you may choose desolation
And the shadows you build with your hands
If you turn to the light
That is burning in the night
Then the Journeyman's day has begun
I do what I want
>And I say what I want
>And no one can take it away
I do what I want
And I say what I want
And no one can take it away
In your life you may choose desolation
And the shadows you build with your hands
If you turn to the light
That is burning in the night
Then the Journeyman's day has begun
I know what I want
And I say what I want
And no one can take it away
I know what I want
And I say what I want
And no one can take it away
song performed by by Iron Maiden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think it is probably more important to attend specialized conventions for a journeyman writer than any other, but it's useful at all stages of a career, if for nothing else, to find out how the industry is working at any given time.
quote by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
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The country blacksmith who employs no journeyman is never conscious of any conflict between the capital invested in his anvil, hammer and bellows, and the labor he performs with them, because in fact, there is none.
quote by Leland Stanford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Man sees many horizons at the journey's end
There are lot of names and addresses engraved in his book of heart.
Before he leaves, He reads all and thinks when he gets a chance to have a kind word with them.
Poor Journeyman! Please do not keep any regrets
As you too a passing cloud in the nameless sky.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Bricklayer Love
I thought of killing myself because I am only a bricklayer
and you a woman who loves the man who runs a drug store.
I don't care like I used to; I lay bricks straighter than I
used to and I sing slower handling the trowel afternoons.
When the sun is in my eyes and the ladders are shaky and the
mortar boards go wrong, I think of you.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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He has the obligation to society that any human being has. I don't think a satirist has any greater obligation to society than a bricklayer or anybody else.
quote by Shel Silverstein
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I don't want to be a star. If you have to label me anything, I'm an actor - I guess. A journeyman actor. I think 'star' is what you call actors who can't act.
Apprentice is the beginner - the first years you work in a craft in the European sense you are an apprentice. That takes 3 or 4 years. Then you are a journeyman. You can go from one master to another and learn other tricks and other secrets.
quote by Josef Albers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Is An Expert (Fun Poem 130)
Someone showed him
how to lay a brick
and overnight he became
an expert bricklayer.
One lesson was all he needed.
One day he helped fix a puncture
on one of his car tyres,
then he went to bed
and when he woke up,
he was an expert motor mechanic.
Everything he does
no matter what it is,
he only has to do it once
and he is an expert
or so he thinks he is.
There are so many experts
it is had to find a real one
from all the wannabes
and the know it alls
that surround us everyday.
poem by David Harris
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Journeyman
Spine-tingling railway sleepers ---
Sleepy houses lying four-square and firm
Orange beams divide the darkness
Rumbling fit to turn the waking worm.
Sliding through victorian tunnels
Where green moss oozes from the pores.
Dull echoes from the wet embankments
Battlefield allotments. fresh open sores.
In late night commuter madness
Double-locked black briefcase on the floor
Like a faithful dog with master
Sleeping in the draught beside the carriage door.
To each journeyman his own home-coming
Cold supper nearing with each station stop
Frosty flakes on empty platforms
Fireside slippers waiting. flip. flop.
Journeyman night-tripping on the late fantasic
Too late to stop for tea at gerards cross
And hear the soft shoes on the footbridge shuffle
As the wheels turn biting on the midnight frost.
On the late commuter special
Carriage lights that flicker, fade and die
Howling into hollow blackness
Dusky diesel shudders in full cry.
Down redundant morning papers
Abandon crosswords with a cough
Stationmaster in his wisdom
Told the guard to turn the heating off.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heart
I am a journeyman; a solitary pilgrim.
Worried for nothing,
If your heart is an inn
I'll be your first lodger to stay in.
I am a blind man, helpless creature and lost my way
If your heart can see a remedy to my vision
I'll be your first patient
I am a cripple with crutches lost everything
If your heart is a burial place
I'll be the first luckiest man to rest in peace in your bosom.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Crazy Jane Reproved
I care not what the sailors say:
All those dreadful thunder-stones,
All that storm that blots the day
Can but show that Heaven yawns;
Great Europa played the fool
That changed a lover for a bull.
Fol de rol, fol de rol.
To round that shell's elaborate whorl,
Adorning every secret track
With the delicate mother-of-pearl,
Made the joints of Heaven crack:
So never hang your heart upon
A roaring, ranting journeyman.
Fol de rol, fol de rol.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Is it a dream?
Bramble bush in the Forest road
Near by the Bricklayer's house
A rumour goes around
Once a Farmer's Bride eloped with a Buffalo Boy
On their Wedding day!
Here's the place I saw a Golden snake
With Diamond teeth and Mercuric Venom.
Really I want to rush into the poor Gypsy toothless snake charmer's shack
And inform this strange incident.
But I have a little doubt
Whether it's a dream or Real?
This old age is very pathetic
And perhaps it could be an omen of beautiful Death?
* To the poetess Sylvia Plath for the poem 'Edge'. [Her bare feet seem to be sayig; We have come so far and it's over.]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Sanctuary
This is the bricklayer; hear the thud
Of his heavy load dumped down on stone.
His lustrous bricks are brighter than blood,
His smoking mortar whiter than bone.
Set each sharp-edged, fire-bitten brick
Straight by the plumb-line's shivering length;
Make my marvelous wall so thick
Dead nor living may shake its strength.
Full as a crystal cup with drink
Is my cell with dreams, and quiet, and cool. . . .
Stop, old man! You must leave a chink;
How can I breathe? You can't, you fool!
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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The Moor
The world's gone forward to its latest fair
And dropt an old man done with by the way,
To sit alone among the bats and stare
At miles and miles and miles of moorland bare
Lit only with last shreds of dying day.
Not all the world, not all the world's gone by:
Old man, you're like to meet one traveller still,
A journeyman well kenned for courtesy
To all that walk at odds with life and limb;
If this be he now riding up the hill
Maybe he'll stop and take you up with him . . .
'But thou art Death?' 'Of Heavenly Seraphim
None else to seek thee out and bid thee come.'
'I only care that thou art come from Him,
Unbody me - I'm tired - and get me home.'
poem by Ralph Hodgson
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The Journeyman
Not baser than his own homekeeping kind
Whose journeyman he is -
Blind sons and breastless daughters of the blind
Whose darkness pardons his, -
About the world, while all the world approves,
The pimp of Fashion steals,
With all the angels mourning their dead loves
Behind his bloody heels.
It my be late when Nature cries Enough!
As one day cry she will,
And man may have the wit to put her off
With shifts a season still;
But man may find the pinch importunate
And fall to blaming men -
Blind sires and breastless mothers of his fate,
It may be late and may be very late,
Too late for blaming then.
poem by Ralph Hodgson
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As Happy, Happy, Happy As Can Be
Bricklayer’s like to keep their spirit levels high
Joiner’s and Chippie’s will raise the rafters
They do the things that brings them joy
Things that give them the laughter’s
Their as happy, happy, happy as can be
Nurse’s keep their humour tender
Clown’s like to act the fool
Heating engineer’s like it hot
Ice cream makers keep it cool
Their all happy, happy, happy as can be
I like to be in your arms
Saying I love you’ listening to you saying I love you too
I like to see your smiling eyes
In which my smiling eyes look into
Then I am as happy, happy, happy as can be
You make me so happy, happy, happy as can be
Happiness is me as happy, happy, happy as can be
In love and as happy, happy, happy as can be
In love with you happy forever in love
As happy, happy, happy as can be
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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