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A Wooden Riddle

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A Wooden Riddle I walk through walls, but I'm not dead. (as they are unfinished) I try to keep the plans, locked in my head. From the morning I wake up, until the time I hit the bed. Sheetrock, green board, sand block whitewash! A new life... for a young man following his God, the "true carpenter". Speed square all's fair, math done in pencil. Left on the wall, before painting. The magic of building, with hands guided; can not be anything, less than > art.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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Date: 2/10/2020 5:03:00 AM
Pure art and soul....I like the feel of the write...
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Date: 2/9/2020 10:53:00 AM
Hi Ann, I love that you refer to The Carpenter - terrific write, I have a poem called ' I am the Carpenter'. Awesome poem, Blessings and hugs, Jen.
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Date: 2/8/2020 11:51:00 PM
lol.. It confused me at the beginning.. I walk through walls.. Then it slowly reveals.. The true picture.. Good one Ann...
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Date: 2/8/2020 4:25:00 PM
Interesting work Ann. Good-un.
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Date: 2/7/2020 7:22:00 PM
Enjoyed this, Ann! :)
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