Best Sanding Poems
Upside Down Teardrops Falling Gently
Upside down teardrops falling gently onto a magical mirror
as crystal chandeliers of soft light filters through reflecting
a treasure of pearls that speak to a thousand bounties paid,
whilst a sanding of polished memories stone cut a diamond,
at once, that’s truly regal once upon a time in a deep dream
that shows inside a mystical castle embodied around a circle
that splits into a quarter wherein four cells hangs a real picture
of truest beauty and love that bathes inside the ocean’s breath
and sighs, whilst murmuring your name and speaking of the tides
lost at sea, whereby all of us, at the end now, shall become sacred
sailors who must freely seek out and fulfill our own human destiny.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 20, 2021 (Free Verse)
Don’t Get Me Irish Up
Me glasses were sitting a-top-a me head
the jam I was spreading was next to the bread
my knees were together but me spindly legs spread
I’m either half way in ---or out of the bed
I have to look down when brushing me teeth
and glue them in tight before chewing me meat
and as for the callous that grows wild on my feet
I find sanding them a sensual treat
Me fingers resemble cold, wintering trees
aging icicles hang from my elbows and knees
the slightest of movements puts a scent on the breeze
and to make matters worse I pee when I sneeze
Me back’s slightly bent, me forehead is wrinkled
when reading a menu, me eyes, yes – they’re crinkled
when I fall asleep they say “ the old boy’s Van Winkled”
and me stories they say are all “Blarney sprinkled”
Me slippers are worn, me legs freshly shorn
the skin of me cheeks soft as the day I was born
but when they break out the corned beef and stout
all of me parts start to dancing about
John G. Lawless
© 3/6/2017
Daughter of the Sandman
War-story woman stands astride
the country now,
book-store tour bleary now,
author hands aching
from signing the $20.99
paperback professing her father’s
Marne Corps Desert Storm glory now.
Book-tour daughter
lays inside the hotel room now,
calling her shattered dad
across the gulf,
calling the shaking-hands dad man
“Geppetto” because,
when she calls,
he is always in the workshop basement
of her childhood,
still struggling with band saws
against protesting wood.
War-story woman asks the first-draft
question that has tied down
her mind, even during
her best-seller tour,
for so long now:
How well did she write the smell
of a burning man?
The sanding-dad Geppetto,
exhales against his labor,
says that her words were enough
to peel the covers from hard-backed
leathernecks in the Kuwaiti desert,
circa 1990 -
seethes through his teeth,
says how he can smell
the roasted beef of muscle,
sulfur stink of hair,
sticky-sweet spinal fluid
spiraling up
like a black-cloud desert jinn,
how her work makes him
proud, but that, now,
he must hide in his workshop,
in his work,
in this room,
to honor his writer daughter
and build his bookshelves
even wider.
Sure it comes with shoveling,salting,sanding,scraping,snow plowing and snow blowing
It also comes with so much more beauty that's well worth knowing
Snow blockades for snowball fights
Playing king of the mountain on a blanket of white
Explore tunnels into snow made forts
There's snow angels in shapes and sizes of all sorts
Take a break for tasty marshmallows in hot cocoa
Hike back up to the top of the sledding hill and go
Have fun on tubes,saucers,sleds and skis
Watch out below for beautiful snow covered trees
Snowboarding can give you such an adrenaline rush
Enjoy watching the sled dogs mush
Build some snow sculptures or a simple snowman
Take a ride and enjoy snowmobiling,ice fishing or to the crazy outhouse races because you can
Take time to catch snowflakes on your tounge
No matter your age it makes you feel young
Try out some snowshoeing or perhaps a kabogum run
Ice skating and ice hockey can also be fun
Hunters appreciate snow for tracking their deer
For the U.P winter is a wonderful time of the year
Tell stories sitting cozy with loved ones around a fire
There's so much about winter in the U.P I desire
This is only a small list of what makes winter in the U.P so super
It has so much more to offer, yah der ay I'm proud to be a yooper
Slip on a wet suit and surf the waves of Lake Superior
Being the largest fresh water lake in the world she isn't known for being inferior
Jump in a hot suana to get out of the cold
So many adventures and mysteries in the U.P to unfold
End your chilly day with a hot pasty, bowl of chili and a hot bath
When you wake up tomorrow you will probably have to shovel a new path
The U.P in winter is worth visiting, it's a beautiful sight
The U.P in winter is a beautiful winter wonderland delight
chipping and hacking
sawing and sanding
this is the life of a creator
these are his sounds
a cacophony of hustle and bustle
a primal link to the past and an eye on the future
ever striving for a land bridge between the two
like ancient explorers of the human condition
back and forth
to and fro
sweeping arm movements packed with energy
eye's steady and intense gaze resting on the immediate
standing on the precipice, the gateway of creativity
ready to push the boundaries of the possible one more time
forging potentials in the foundry of insight
molten heat emanating from the source of inspiration
leaving trails across le atelier in vibrant, living color
once more into the fray.....
a chance to become something more
a demigod, replete with all the powers
to cast off these earthly shackles and take one's rightful place
amongst the Apollonian and Dionysian pantheon
standing shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Giacometti, Rodin and Michelangelo
basking in their eternal aurora of shimmering crystalline streaks of productivity
leaving traces of ocular delight along the way
but always leaving something to be desired
just out of reach and unattainable, alluding to greater grandeur
scaling the philosophical peaks and traversing the political spectrum
to unify the scattered, to join the fragmented, to give voice to the oppressed
saying something with nothing
directing the viewer's eye with subtleties
emphasizing silence with space and void
painting and glazing
soldering and welding
hands steadily guiding and grinding
unearthing the inert qualities laying dormant, waiting to be revealed
commanding that the materials speak and be known
this is a life worth living
this is the life of a creator
The Vessel
The Lord, being the Great Potter,
has picked out this tiny vessel especially for you,
He is wanting to show how precious to Him the two of you are
and He says nothing else more fitting could possibly do.
Though the vessel’s size may be small
yet its market value is exclusively high,
no nothing is too good for His servants He says,
and your limit which is set by Him is to the sky.
But to prepare this lovely vessel
the Potter took such pain staking care,
precision molding and just the right fire with proper timing of course
made this vessel one which is so fair.
And so with you my dear ones,
such a value He has placed upon the two of you,
great time has been spent shaping, sanding and firing your vessels
so don’t wonder, just look forward to what He is planning to do.
As it was in Elisha’s day
and how the vessel of oil, why it never ran dry,
so your visions and dreams will all come to pass
and still be running over the top till with Him away you will fly.
Written by: Marilyn S. Jennings
January 3, 2001
I should have left you in the past
and not dragged you into my present.
You should have stayed with memories
of tank tops and Mary Quant make up,
school discos and music by Mud.
The long lazy summers preceding adulthood.
When you arrived in 'now' you didn't belong,
it seemed strange; didn't work somehow.
You squinted to try and see me as I was
and I you, but it jarred and mismatched -
it didn't fit despite the trimming
and the sanding to try and make it.
So now you're gone again.
Settled with the dusty photographs
and nestling with teenage reflections.
Back where you belong; in the attic of the past.
Spare change was rare at our house when I was a lad,
But you could bet on it, when I got a quarter from my Dad,
I didn't blow it on mundane things like a baseball or a mitt!
I flew to the local Five and Dime to buy a model airplane kit!
The store shelves were piled high with model planes galore!
Spitfires, Hurricanes, Mustangs, Thunderbolts and many more!
The man at the counter patiently waited 'til I made my selection.
I needed the perfect specimen to add to my vast collection!
I set up my shop in the seclusion of our cozy attic,
Sanding, painting, gluing and poring over the schematic.
In isolation if things went awry, I could utter a cuss word or two,
Without Mom yelling, "Son, I don't know what's to become of you!"
From the ceiling of my room hung dozens of the things,
Each floating aloft supported by delicate gossamer wings!
How oft I'd lie abed dreaming of flight, sensing total elation,
Freed from earthly bonds, soaring above the beauty of Creation!
Assembling balsa wood planes required a certain degree of skill.
Nowadays, they're hard to find and cost a twenty-dollar bill!
The plastic models of today are realistic but will never compare,
To building your very own creation and releasing it in the air!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Entry for Frank H.'s "A Childhood Memory" Contest
A smithy peers into a white hot
Ingot formed square
Seeing the idea of a meaning
Form there
How many turns at the anvil
How many soakings
In the heat
Long sweating hours hammering
Out her beat
The shape of the curve
Coaxed, twisted
Unnerve
Rough forged
Dimpled and scaled
The infant soul struggles
To be released
Feverishly filing
Sanding
Blasting
Pausing...
Was that too much
Sleep on it
Dream of it
Put her on the table
Wait for her to speak
To cry out for your care
Grow into your dream
Polish until her sparkling
Truth is revealed
The word smith
Gazes in awe
She has been the midwife
Servant and guide through the
Strife
Chaos
Of meanings life
Thirty minutes later. Two a.m. and I'm still here, I haven't forgotten......
Thirty minutes, tears are racing, creating clock hands that point to the edge of my chin,
trembling, my bones point only to the end and you, you're more than
thirty minutes late.
Screaming, I'm slashing my heart to bits, forty minutes now you've been screaming.
Forty minutes later, you've broken, me, I'm well aware of what happens to mothers..
postpartum...
and I paid for you, I paid for you for twenty-seven months and forty-five minutes
late
is only slightly too much for me to
bear.
You're not accepting this, your eyes are popping, Dear, there's blood dripping from your
glances and for
seventeen minutes and 17 days I've been twisting us into nothing while you've smiled at
me, I've been writing the truth that will shut you down...
you're illiterate, you're criss-crossing my statements into lies and my letters are
running from you...
they've been running for months now, back into my mouth to feel the safety of my tongue until
I kiss you
forty-five minutes
late.
Your steps are tick-tocking and Edger Allen Poe couldn't have saved us, underneath the
floorboards at night while I feel the insanity of time...
attack
what's left of me,
you're not doing this this time around, you're late and I'm trapped inside Tuesday, but
it's March now, Dear, and the years since we first kissed are counting themselves to four,
I'm serious about the edges that I've been sanding past midnight, I've saved the sawdust
for you
so you can eat the corners of me
next time your mouth opens, I've saved
myself
twenty-seven months
and thirty minutes
late
but I figure, as the words dance, frightened, on my tongue, at least I'm here
at least I'm thirty minutes ahead
of you.
Her guts were barking at her like a dog,
“What is it boy? What’s wrong?”
She tried putting a little English on what she felt.
Her eyes were exposed to the rust spots; she walked in the other direction,
mentally sanding it out.
It was a roller coaster nearing the top, and all she could think about was a missing piece of track.
Surrounded by faces smiling and screaming with their hands in the air.
“I guess this is really going to happen” she thought as she plunged into the icy dark water.
Everyone began to leave, their arms around one another.
She stood there alone, dripping wet, holding onto a stupid red balloon.
The sun peeked a shine down the salty blue sea,
multiplying an exotic kingdoms beauty.
A small fish traveled the big ocean sanding snails. The fish would say
"The slowest snail is to slow to yield to the slow snail." and another snail was sanded.
A big Bass fish watched the small fish's mistake. At the perfect opportunity
then big Bass torpedo itself towards the small fish.
Conspired prey eyes sunk a gulp and the small fish jetted.
A swim chase curved the currents as the two fishes zigzagged the under toes.
In a challenge to outwit waves a shark lurked up behind the big Bass.
The three fishes aligned in a straight line as the shark ate the big Bass as bate and then ate the small fish as bate.
Skin of innocence
adultery in a garden of villages.
Where plants preach nature in pollution,
lovingly clashing colors
. coffins laid in mirrors.
My unveiling in my confidence, after life was the unknown.
that day I lost my breath.
lost my tongue.
I rained colors of metal, I stabbed myself in the bag
.Zip it all.
I was confused between two bridges,I looked south(down)on a verse tales of the worse signed a curse on.
I was of habits written in " sins but clean. Cohabitant"ed" heart beats an- examrooms.
Diaries in the membrane asks questions a lot of papers.
I thought I knew nature too.
Who was I going to be?
I am not Moses. I preach not, but allow me narration... I was a little brat. Perfecting my tools.
Sanding my imperfections in in a foundation of none existing brick.
Embracing a slummish home. Hugging on my soiled bricks.
Though i looked far uglier than a plot, I believe in a blank dream I was telling my story.
Mirrors couldn't term my existence.
....skin of innocence
Lost feeling all this oppression, I know the Devils right behind me... I can feel him breathing down my neck. Running away from sin following God's voice keep him in my heart turning depression to rejoice. I feel I'm losing control so i get down on my knees and pray for my soul, I still dont know all the things i have to do or where i gotta go counting on Christ to lead me. he will always guide me, instead of running and hiding i'll stand firm right beside him. I got alot to say with God speaking thru me, im an example and im glad he chose me. He lived and died on a tree arose three days later and in heaven hes residing, abiding listening to his will sanding on his path and thats where im gonna chill, Let me be real take a second to explain how im feeling and not dealing with the devils games he tries playing. I left him behind cuz i ran him over just the other day yea i like it that way.
When im Lost feeling all this depression, I know Jesus will lead me in the right direction... Count on him the bible gives you the instructions, he will take your fear away he aint playing now..
When im Lost feeling all this depression, I know Jesus will lead me in the right direction... Count on him the bible gives you the instructions, he will take your fear away he aint playing now..
I have a God who sent his son and took the stripes, he Paid the price for my life, a price he didnt have to pay but he loved us so much he couldnt let us die... Jesus you took the weighgt and you put it on yourself, theres no greater love then to lay down your life for your friends. and you did it for me even though im undeserving and I wanna thank you so much. Everytime I fall you open my eyes and show me where I went wrong, you have forgiven me and I have another chance to teach the things you taght me. Lord I am your vessel please use me to your will help me to do the things for which im called let me hear you voice through the Holy Spirit Lord, reach down and touch me.
When im Lost feeling all this depression, I know Jesus will lead me in the right direction... Count on him the bible gives you the instructions, he will take your fear away he aint playing now..
When im Lost feeling all this depression, I know Jesus will lead me in the right direction... Count on him the bible gives you the instructions, he will take your fear away he aint playing now..
Want effective and long-lasting house plumbing? Here are few examples of the most excellent pipes for house plumbings that will last forever.
The most reliable pipes for house plumbing are ones that will persist for a long time, as well as efficiently do the job.
ABS pipes are the most reliable drainage pipes but PVC is most suitable for underground settings in commercial and industrial constructions. PVC is more heavily used in the United States, where ABS is less popular. Both work well, it all comes down to the codes and allowances of your particular region.
Water
Copper and PEX are the most suitable for the use for water services, with PEX being the most affordable by a landslide. PEX is very simple to work with and cut, as well as attach fittings too. This cuts down the price of material as well as labor time for a plumber.
Copper is more costly, and type M Copper is not permitted in all circumstances as it has thinner walls, but it can be utilized for various domestic applications. Type L copper is more easily employed for commercial and industrial settings as it has thicker walls and will last much longer.
Copper seems fabulous but needs a bit more time to operate with. The positive side of copper though is that it is a more rigorous material and is less likely to get pierced(although possible). Copper needs soldering (melting metal with a low melting point around the pipe and fitting) as well as sanding the element to guarantee it is clear of dirt and grime that necessarily builds upon the outer wall of the pipe and then implementing flux to make it more manageable for a flame to get attracted to the interior of the fitting for that watertight seal.
Cast Iron for drainage
Besides ABS and PVC for drainage pipe, you can also have cast iron pipe for your drains. These are also a more costly option for drainage (like copper is to PEX) and takes more time to work with.
This pipe also demands a bit more care to be hung from the roof as earlier discussed, it’s heavier.
When it comes to plumbing, your code is power. Whatever choice you make, be certain the hydraulic hose fittings are to code as a lot of stuff may be immediately sold, but may not be to regulations. This could lead to crashes in plumbing and accidents.