Hands of a Master
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At my ripe age it's plain to me
That wisdom can come painfully
But found within our trouble, too
The best of what we humans do
All that's drawn from mind and heart
Is what weaves object into art
Crimping spouts of twisted metal
Changing common can to kettle
Time and Heaven's weep remake
A meager pond into a lake
The finest instrument lays quiet
Without a skillful hand to ply it
Still and barren, paints and brush
Until obliged a master's touch
Pen and paper don't enthuse
Sans a poet's poignant muse
And I am but a hand-less glove
Without my faith in God above
A walking, breathing implement
The tool for His divine intent.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Standard Contest Number 70" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Kettle, Pond, Lake" Poetry Contest, Nayda Ivette Negron, Sponsor.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2018
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