The Workbox
See, here's the workbox, little wife,
That I made of polished oak.'
He was a joiner, of village life;
She came of borough folk.
He holds the present up to her
As with a smile she nears
And answers to the profferer,
''Twill last all my sewing years!'
'I warrant it will. And longer too.
'Tis a scantling that I got
Off poor John Wayward's coffin, who
Died of they knew not what.
'The shingled pattern that seems to cease
Against your box's rim
Continues right on in the piece
That's underground with him.
'And while I worked it made me think
Of timber's varied doom;
One inch where people eat and drink,
The next inch in a tomb.
'But why do you look so white, my dear,
And turn aside your face?
You knew not that good lad, I fear,
Though he came from your native place?'
'How could I know that good young man,
Though he came from my native town,
When he must have left there earlier than
I was a woman grown?'
'Ah, no. I should have understood!
It shocked you that I gave
To you one end of a piece of wood
Whose other is in a grave?'
'Don't, dear, despise my intellect,
Mere accidental things
Of that sort never have effect
On my imaginings.'
Yet still her lips were limp and wan,
Her face still held aside,
As if she had known not only John,
But known of what he died.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Related quotes
Inch By Inch
You can take a powder
You can take a drink
You can keep the shrink
And the kitchen sink
Write my name in heaven
In invisible ink
I just woke up from dreaming, I think
You can take me over
You can give me a lip
You can take me under
You can give me the slip
Take off everything or tear me off a strip
Like a lady in the chamber
And another in the clip
Chorus
Dont move a muscle baby
Dont even flinch
You can miss me by a mile
Or just inch by inch
Inch by inch
Inch by inch
Inch by inch
You can pull me up again
Inch by inch
Inch by inch
As pulses race
I long to see that look upon your face
You can take me outside
You can take me apart
You can take me upstairs
You can take me to heart
You made me love you when
You thought you were so smart
Dont try to stop me when
You told me to start
Chorus
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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William Upson
Air -- "The Major's Only Son"
Come all good people, far and near,
Oh, come and see what you can hear,
It's of a young man, true and brave,
Who is now sleeping in his grave.
Now, William Upson was his name --
If it's not that it's all the same --
He did enlist in the cruel strife,
And it caused him to lose his life.
He was Jesse Upson's eldest son,
His father loved his noble son;
This son was nineteen years of age,
In the rebellion he engaged.
His father said that he might go,
But his dear mother she said no.
"Stay at home, dear Billy," she said,
But oh, she could not turn his head.
For go he would, and go he did --
He would not do as his mother bid,
For he went away down South, there
Where he could not have his mother's care.
He went to Nashville, Tennessee,
There his kind friends he could not see;
He died among strangers, far away,
They knew not where his body lay.
He was taken sick and lived four weeks,
And oh, how his parents weep,
But now they must in sorrow mourn,
Billy has gone to his heaven home.
If his mother could have seen her son,
For she loved him, her darling one,
If she could heard his dying prayer,
It would ease her heart till she met him there.
It would relieved his mother's heart,
To have seen her son from this world depart,
And hear his noble words of love,
As he left this world for that above.
It will relieve his mother's heart,
That her son is laid in our grave yard;
Now she knows that his grave is near,
She will not shed so many tears.
She knows not that it was her son,
His coffin could not be opened --
It might be some one in his place,
For she could not see his noble face.
He enrolled in eighteen sixty-three,
The next day after Christmas eve;
He died in eighteen sixty-four,
Twenty-third of March, as I was told.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Those layered Cakes
yesterday i passed by
my childhood stall by the road;
what an experience it was!
that woman in her 30s i used to see,
now only her creased forehead and face
to add another dimension between us.
how sweet her layered little squarish
suntan cakes still tasted;
those layers that i peeled off
piece by piece to savour their charms.
and as i peeled the women gave me
that more mature and
deeply heartstirring smile
that tore through the distance
between us as if each layer i had peeled carried a story of her own life.
those years of experiences
now seen in phases,
like the layers of her cake.
the child in me leapt up again.
i left behind what
have separated us
to present the innocent smile
we used to give each other.
momentarily we lived
those days when i was a child
and she a young woman.
those childhood years
when we saw people as what they were.
those childhood years
when our smiles, love
were a fountain spring of ourselves
until the days when growing up
added different shades
of feelings and thoughts
to our relationships.
i hate the layer
those creases and wrinkles
laid in me.
i prefer to see them
as a child
where she would probably be
the wise woman in some cartoon film.
how those cakes would never
be the same again.
how i loved those pink and white layers,
the pink and white that had always
carried a fairy tale behind them.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Piece By Piece
She looks good
But shes not all together right
All the parts are not screwed on tight
Theres a touch of tragedy
When she moves
I can see the secret showing through
Shed deny it if she thought I knew
But she could never hide from me
Anyone would think theres nothing wrong
She looks so satisfied
But Ive known about her much too long
She cant conceal what she feels inside
Im going to show her that
Piece by piece
Inch by inch
I can put her back together again
Ill supply the love she lacks
And give her back
Exactly what she needs
Bringing it piece by piece
All I need to find a way around her defense
Is just a little common sense
I dont have a strategy
Ill be there, like I have so many other times
Shell reveal to me a certain sign
That only I can see
Anyone would think theres nothing wrong
She seems like shes complete
But its obvious its been too long
Since she believed what she needs is me
Anyone would think theres nothing wrong
But shes not fooling me
Everybody wants to lead her on
But I believe what she needs is me
(what she needs is me)
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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HIV/ AIDS Anecdotal Poems
She loved a man and he was young;
He loved her back and had some fun;
They married too and some years passed;
They both died young, left child orphan!
He was a trucker working hard;
He used to come home twice a month;
He was a wayward, smoker, drunk;
He died of AIDS, infecting wife!
A police husband’s wife was nurse;
The man gave HIV to her;
When he died, she took ART;
She died too when she stopped her drugs!
It was a jolly trip for boys;
They enjoyed well, sang, drank and danced;
Some strayed into the red-light zone;
All of them developed AIDS sometime!
Young boys and girls do venture young
To know what love-making’s about;
Adults have sex outside marriage;
And when AIDS strikes, they are soon dead!
Even the rich and literate
Succumb to pleasures that can kill;
Homosexuality, IDU
Can turn you sero-positive!
Why risk your one life precious most?
God wants the human race stay pure;
You cannot live by whims, fancies;
You are duty-bound till you die!
‘Avoid all risks of HIV exposure
Keep your mind, body’s composure’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-12-2011
poem by John Celes
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Many Beliefs, But One Way
Many beliefs have been touted to be, alternate pathways to Eternity,
For since He is a God of Love, there’s many ways to Heaven above.
Saying a loving God wouldn’t send, anyone into Hell my dear friend.
Saying every man from every place, will in Heaven see God’s Face.
Friend, some dear folk even say, living a good life is one sure way,
Why others believe their religiosity, will pave their way into eternity.
One thing all these people know, is Heaven’s where they want to go,
But knowing where they want to be, won’t assure Heaven in eternity.
Many profess to believe in God, while saying it with a confident nod.
One Truth they do not embrace, is the Saving Work of God’s Grace.
Where do you find God’s Saving Grace, it is found in just one place,
And that one place is the Cross, where the Lamb died for all the lost.
Some grow up having understood, to get to Heaven we must be good.
What about the thief next to Christ, that same day he was in Paradise,
Not because he lived a good life; it was because he believed in Christ.
His evil life put him on that tree; his belief in Christ gained him eternity.
It is God’s Truth men must believe, and God’s Son they must receive.
Men may not know God’s only Son, the Lamb who died for everyone.
Christ died that day for you and me, so all men need to do is believe.
The moment you accept Him friend, Heaven not Hell will be your end.
A good life won’t give one certainty, like The Lord gives to you and me.
Good works point to men not Christ, for securing for them Eternal Life.
Christ not I, bore all of God’s wrath, to pave for me God’s Eternal path.
It’s not a good life that sets us free, but belief in the One from Calvary.
Jobism-According to Uncle Bob
'Jobism'
he said
'the real disease of the 2Oth century'
Bob was warming up to the topic.
'Now you take my grandfather,
what he wanted was his own piece of land
the ability to run his own life
he didn't work all his life for a job.
He worked for land and the independence
that land meant.
It has been that way for all of history of the human race.
From the cave man marking up the cave walls
to the rancher, the farmer
and the homesteader,
all we have ever wanted was a piece of land
to call our own.
My people came here to America not for a job
but for freedom.
Now we are settling for cubicles.
Mere one-hundred years ago
they taxed us off the land
gave to the corporations;
the farmers left the land,
got herded
into the dirty cities
plopped down into factories
becoming wage-slaves.
My Grandad is still bitter about that.
Now our kids are taught be good,
get a good education
and try to get a good wage-slave job.
One hundred years ago
it was get your own piece of land,
be independent,
don't be beholden to any man,
don't let the authorities run your life.
What a change huh?
This has had for more impact
than we think.
Hitler's minions asked why did they gas the Jews
and their answers were, 'it was my job.'
People in experiments will kill other people
if scientists in white lab coats tell them its ok to do so.
Whole nations go to war and maim
because somebody told them it was their job to do so.
Job one
means obedience is number two,
obedience to those that you might not ever obey
except for they tell you
obey me or your family starves.
or you can't get a good job.
We need to sever the wage-slave
from the job
which enslaves.
Cities never really worked
they create wealth for the few
and poverty for the many. Still does.
My idea, ' he said'
is I don't want no job:
I want independence.
Then he smiled.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Grandma's Old Piano Was Sold
grandma's piano is old.
she died ten years ago
being the second wife of grandpa.
my mother is her second child
that she sent to piano school
but father found her and married
her when she was still 18.
and i was born as their fourth
child. Mother knows how to play
the moonlight sonata which father
loves to listen at night when
i learn how to smile and laugh.
One day Papa found another woman
whom he said made him new again
and he left Mama.
One day Mama died and Papa married
that woman.
One day i left home.
One day the piano was sold
One day the piano was taken to another
town so far away from us.
One day, all these things, the piano, Papa
and my step mother are forgotten.
But then the Moonlight Sonata comes again
One night
From another piano nearby.
The keys are no longer made
From elephant tusks like grandma's old piano.
Not the off white of ivory.
So white and smooth like a well brushed teeth
of a very young boy.
I like to hear it when he learns
how to gnash.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Portrait / Pinnacle
He had a thousand ideas
You might have heard his name
He lived alone with his vision
Not looking for fortune or fame
Never said too much to speak of
He was off on another plane
The words that he said were a mystery
Nobody's sure he was sane
But he knew, he knew more than me or you
No one could see his view
Oh, where was he going to
He was in search of an answer
The nature of what we are
He was trying to do it a new way
He was bright as a star
But nobody understood him
His numbers are not the way
He's lost in the deepest enigma
Which no one's unravelled today
But he knew, he knew more than me or you
No one could see his view
Oh, where was he going to
And he tried
But before he could tell us he died
When he left us the people cried
Oh, where was he going to?
He had a different idea
A glimpse of the master plan
He could see into the future
A true visionary man
But there's something he never told us
It died when he went away
If only he could have been with us
No telling what he might say
But he knew, he knew more than me or you
No one could see his view
Oh, where was he going to
But he knew
You could tell by the picture he drew
It was totally something new
Oh, where was he going to
I've so much to say, and yet I cannot speak
Come and do my bidding now for I have grown too weak
My weary eyes have seen all that life can give
Come to me, O young one, for you I can forgive
I stood where no man goes, and conquered demon foes
With glory and passion no longer in fashion
The hero breaks his blade
Cast this shadow long that I may hide my face
And in this cloak of darkness the world I will embrace
In all that I endure, of one thing I am sure
Knowledge and reason change like the season
A jester's promenade
Lying at my feet I see the offering you bring
The mark of Cain is on our faces, borne of suffering
O, I long to hear you say it's not been wrong
I stand before you now, a riddle in my song
The answer is that sweet refrain
Unheard it always will remain
Beyond our reach, beyond our gain
Trapped in life's parade, a king without a crown
In this joy of madness, my smile might seem a frown
With talons wrought of steel, I tore the heart of doom
And in one gleaming moment I saw beyond the tomb
I stood where no man goes, above the din I rose
Life is amusing though we are losing
Drowned in tears of awe.
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wish You Were Here
Funny how the years
They just pass us by
Seems like yesterday
You were in my life
You always wanted
To start a family
I was way too young
I was runnin' free
If you could only see me now
You'd realize
I'm not the boy who
Made you cry
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
Oh
Wish you were here with me
I thought I knew it all
How stupid could I be?
I think of all I had
And it makes me weak
If you could only see me now
You'd realize
I'm not the boy who
Made you cry
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
Oh
Wish you were here with me
Sometimes
You hurt the ones who love you most
And sometimes
You hold the ones who leave you lost
And sometimes
You learn but it's too late
It's too late
You gave yourself
I didn't see it
You died in me
I should've saved you
You gave yourself
Why did you give yourself to me?
You died in me
Why was I too blind to see?
Oh
Oh
Oh
Wish you were here with me
Funny how the years
Just pass us by
song performed by by Enrique Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Talk It All
You Take It All - Cher
Every place we ever knew,
Just a time we held onto.
Every space that we ever made,
Just a piece of ourselves we saved.
Every light that we ever held,
Just a fire from a dark dark spell.
Every love that we ever crave,
Just a thing to be kept and caged.
CHORUS:
Ohhhh, You Take It ALL.
Like the sea takes the land from under my feet.
Ohhh, You Take It ALL.
Like the sea takes the land from under my feet.
Every dream that we ever ride,
Just a place for our souls to hide.
Every fear that we ever chase,
Just the fear of th truth we face.
CHORUS
I made journeys through light,
I made journeys through dark,
and it's the price I paid.
But i knew from the start,
With each beat of my heart,
that you'd just blow me away.
CHORUS 5 times
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Father
Anderson / squire
(originally released in 1970 as a single, not included on time and a word)
Here are the books
Of luke
You*ll need them
To open the seed
To see what goes on in the world
You*re in my mind
Catch the wind and hold on tight
To what we*ll find
And hear what goes on in the world
Here is all you see
Everything is made for you
From me
If there*s anything you*d like to say
That could help me in any way
Cause i*ve been waiting for so long for you to come along
Help me on that day
When you*d take over all the things heaven has made for you
Is there anything you think you should know?
Is there anything before I go?
Dear father, i*m hungry, i*m cold
Dear father, feeling terribly old
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
They*re on their own
Needing their face, a place
Hope....home
To see what goes on in the world
They*re who you need
To show them why they*re wrong
Oh why indeed
We need to go on in the world
Here is all you see
Everything is made for you
From me
If there*s any complication
That you*d like to talk over with me about
Cause i*ve been waiting for so long
For you to come along
We can work it all out
When you take over all the things heaven has made for you
Is there anything you think you should know
Is there anything before I go
Dear father, you must be putting me on
Dear father, cause most of their minds are gone
Dear father, they will not understand me
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
Dear father, can I give it a miss
Dear father, cause i*m not ready for this
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
Dear father, won*t you leave me alone
Dear father, won*t you to let me go home
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
Dear father, won*t they crucify me
Dear father, I just couldn*t do that
Dear father, cause that*s not where it*s at now (hey)
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Father
Anderson / squire
(originally released in 1970 as a single, not included on time and a word)
Here are the books
Of luke
You*ll need them
To open the seed
To see what goes on in the world
You*re in my mind
Catch the wind and hold on tight
To what we*ll find
And hear what goes on in the world
Here is all you see
Everything is made for you
From me
If there*s anything you*d like to say
That could help me in any way
Cause i*ve been waiting for so long for you to come along
Help me on that day
When you*d take over all the things heaven has made for you
Is there anything you think you should know?
Is there anything before I go?
Dear father, i*m hungry, i*m cold
Dear father, feeling terribly old
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
They*re on their own
Needing their face, a place
Hope....home
To see what goes on in the world
They*re who you need
To show them why they*re wrong
Oh why indeed
We need to go on in the world
Here is all you see
Everything is made for you
From me
If there*s any complication
That you*d like to talk over with me about
Cause i*ve been waiting for so long
For you to come along
We can work it all out
When you take over all the things heaven has made for you
Is there anything you think you should know
Is there anything before I go
Dear father, you must be putting me on
Dear father, cause most of their minds are gone
Dear father, they will not understand me
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
Dear father, can I give it a miss
Dear father, cause i*m not ready for this
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
I*m not feeling good like I think I should
Dear father, won*t you leave me alone
Dear father, won*t you to let me go home
Dear father, I don*t think I can see
Dear father, won*t they crucify me
Dear father, I just couldn*t do that
Dear father, cause that*s not where it*s at now (hey)
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Piece Of Work
I'm a piece of work, I'm iron and lace
I'm shy, I'm right up in your face
I'm all dumbfounded, stubborn as an ass
Sharp as an arrow in a pile of glass.
I'm a sweetheart, genius, reckless jerk.
Lord, have mercy, I'm a piece of work.
Well the Lord made me on a long thin limb
Made sure I'd remeber him or her
In the middle of a long dark night
Creation crazy, death-sheet white
Made in the image of a lion shocked lamb
I am who the hell I am
Even better, bad to worse,
Down to the letter, I'm a piece of work.
I'm a piece of work I'm an angels fiend
Bathed in lavender and gasoline
Scared brave, shallow in an ink black well
Lightly browned in the fires of hell
Wicked, holy, full on fake
Best known for my big mistake
I'm zen wise, peaceful, gone berserk
Good God almighty, What a piece of work.
I'm a dreadful sight, I just don't care
Spent all morning pull out my hair
Woke at dawn with a crazy spin
I was half the day trying to glue back in
Mother, bloody mary, please
Wipe that smile right off your knees
I'm the CEO of the mailroom clerks
Lord have mercy, I'm a piece of work.
I'm a piece of work, I'm a love sick boy
Cloth cap, caviar, and corduroy
All over the map, justa lost in space
With a filthy mind and a choirboy's face
Heels up, head down, straight on through
Watch out woman, I'm a get to you
I'm a gladiator with a mind to irk
I'm a see you later, I'm a piece of work.
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God Made Me Strong
GOD made me strong
Man made me weak
Though those facts I grew and knew
Then a woman she made me weep.
GOD gave me the strength
To grow into a Man
To battle my strife and hold onto my life
To then become the best that I can.
Man is all that I am
As I live in a world of man
And to ask for more than what's held in store
And to see what I started and what I have began.
A woman then I did take
To hold and trust and to become my wife
To erase my tears as she stole my fears
Now together as one we live our life.
Now someday on my tomb they will write
The words that I have searched
That in my time and through my mind
That a mere woman caused me to curse.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Her Memories
NOT by her grave: thither I bid them take
Fresh garlands of the flowers that pleased her best,
And lay them by the headstone, for my sake,
My token and remembrance with the rest:
But here, where in the brightening of the west
I see her mountains grow into the sky,
Her native world, and mine because of her,
Here, where that low sigh of the pinewood's stir,
That was her dearest music, fills all sound
,I am with her;
And always, always, past comes passing by,
Lost in her grave, but here as if half found.
Not by her grave: it is too still, too cold,
And save my loss is nothing with me there.
What memories have I there of her of old?
They came not there, the dear lost days that were;
Not she lies there, but only my despair;
Not she, but death and all my loneliness.
What memories save all memories love must shun?
I would not think of death and her as one;
She shall be only life-ful in my mind,
With life's self one;
A name of glad remindings and old bliss,
So something of her presence left behind.
Not by her grave: some day will I return,
When sorrow keeps its wont unvexed by place,
And, sitting on the turf beside, will learn
To call before me there her waking face,
Not that white face that slept and took no trace
Of change because I kissed it, nor for tears.
Some day; for now I should forget her so,
Lose the fair happy woman and but know
The coldness and the silence when she died,
Lose her all so,
My love that was my life of all for years.
She loved this music when the pinewoods sighed.
poem by Augusta Davies Webster
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Non Swimming Man Of The Sea
He had his own fishing boat for many years though he never ventured far out to sea
And from fishing he made a good living enough to upkeep his family
He was born and he still lives near the ocean and the ocean holds no fears for him
But to many it may seem a bit strange that he's never learned how to swim.
Though he left school young for to fish with his father he's a bright man and nobody's fool
And his son and daughter live in the big city their children in Primary school
Two years ago his wife she died suddenly they had been married for thirty five years
And though for her his grieving is over thoughts of her still move him to tears.
A year younger than him she felt quite well till a massive heart attack struck her down
And one day he too will go to join her in the grave yard in the sea side Town
He had a wish to be cremated and his ashes spread on the sea shore
But to his wife he must remain true and with her he will lay forever more.
He sold his fishing boat when his wife died his great zest for life with her died
He now lives on the old age pension and from his cottage he can hear the tide
Rage against the rocks on the fore shore the huge waves they rumble and roll
The immortal voice of the ocean is ever soothing to his soul.
Last February he turned seventy and the years have left him gray and slow
Still he finds comfort in his good memories of his better days decades ago
Of his beautiful wife and their children but life part of mortality
And the Reaper is now quietly waiting for the non swimming man of the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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13 Years
Woke up sweating in the sun
Sprawled across my big brothers grave
Shaking and drunk with sleep
I crawled to my feet and walked up into the shade
Of a young elm tree that must have been planted since the last we came
Vicki, my mom, and me, cleaned the dirt
From the plaque that says his name
Walking to my girlfriends car
Came back down on me
Yeah, I guess I fell to my knees
To keep from falling face-first into the dream
The vision that had had me twisting out under the afternoon sky
I didnt know it then
But it was thirteen years to the day he died
He held his hand in me
Like brothers we walked
Through the colorless world of an alcohol dream
I talked for hours
Trying the break through the silence
That he held over me
Then he started away, turned his head
Keep it up so you can die like me
Ever since my brother odied
Ive drifted all over from town to town to town
Every place I go its always the same
I keep doing junk, I keep going down
My mama got religion and my sisters gave up
Man I just gave up too
I just died inside
Dont wanna die like george
Everybody says theres things to see
Everybodys pointing their fingers at me
I woke up driving
After another blackout from another bad drug
I cant shake this hell that I made for myself
For every other life I took
See my sisters son walk the line I walked
Hes only sixteen
If he dont learn from my mistakes
Hes gonna waste away
Hes gonna die like me
song performed by by Everclear
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Dramatic Fragment
'Fie upon't!
All men are false, I think. The date of love
Is out, expired, its stories all grown stale,
O'erpast, forgotten, like an antique tale
Of Hero and Leander.'
-John Woodvil
All are not false. I knew a youth who died
For grief, because his Love proved so,
And married with another.
I saw him on the wedding-day,-
For he was present in the church that day,
In festive bravery decked,
As one that came to grace the ceremony,-
I marked him when the ring was given:
His Countenance never changed;
And, when the priest pronounced the marriage blessing,
He put a silent prayer up for the bride-
For so his moving lip interpreted.
He came invited to the marriage-feast
With the bride's friends,
And was the merriest of them all that day:
But they who knew him best called it feigned mirth;
And others said
He wore a smile like death upon his face.
His presence dashed all the beholders' mirth,
And he went away in tears.
What followed then?
O then
He did not, as neglected suitors use,
Affect a life of solitude in shades,
But lived
In free discourse and sweet society
Among his friends who knew his gentle nature best.
Yet ever, when he smiled,
There was a mystery legible in his face;
But whoso saw him, said he was a man
Not long for this world-
And true it was; for even then
The silent love was feeding at his heart,
Of which he died;
Nor ever spoke word of reproach;
Only, he wished in death that his remains
Might find a poor grave in some spot not far
From his mistress' family vault-being the place
Where one day Anna should herself be laid.
poem by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wood Handled Shovel
I take its smooth wood in my hands
to turn the earth as spring returns.
I make straight furrows in my garden
Like those before me worked the land.
This was Dad's shovel years ago
And in my father's callused hands
it coaxed our plot to yield us fruit
as good as any farmer's stand.
Outside of faded photographs
So few of father's things remain
His house torn down, his stuff dispersed.
his kingdom shrunken to a grave.
Of all the things that I possess
this little shovel made of wood
is my link to Him I loved
and to a time when life was good.
J.M.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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