Best Woodwork Poems


Premium Member Where There's a Will There's a Relative

They crawl out of the woodwork
Shedding lots of crocodile tears
Grieving for an ancient relative
They’ve not visited for many years
‘Auntie Annie’ is barely warm
But now you see the relations swarm
Waiting for the will to be read
They rub their hands with glee
Hoping they will be left
Lots of lovely money

‘Grieving relatives’ is rubbish!! Some are taking the mick ….
These mercenary vultures simply make me sick!

28th January 2017
Categories: woodwork, funeral, humorous, money, satire,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Enchanted House

My Childhood Home


My lovely childhood home, I miss it so...
built Eighteen Eighty-Six, so long ago.

Three floors, all rooms with mantled fireplaces; 
carved woodwork, archways, spindled winding stair;
cathedral ceilings, sparkling chandelier
in dining room enjoyed on holidays.
Third floor not used but built with parkay floors
and doors that opened to small balconies.
Off the front door, a porch wrapped 'round two sides...
was like a fairy tale when I was young.
 
Such lovely grounds; garage with two horse stalls
and covered sleigh with velvet seats of red.
White gravel paths with gardens either side;
the rolling lawn, majestic tall pine trees
and rippling stony brook below the hill.
My childhood home fulfilled my childhood dreams– 
so happy there with my dear family.
Until I married, it was home to me.

And since home now is not too far from it– 
I often pass the site of my old house.
On left, before I pass under the bridge
that sprawls across the Hudson River now– 
the empty view brings sadness to my heart.
To build that bridge they tore my old home down– 
the only house to make this sacrifice– 
The vision of my childhood home is gone.

As I ride by I feel them wave to me...
the ghosts of past, and my dear family.


Sandra M. Haight

~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Enchanted House
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 05/23/2016

~1st Place~
Contest: A Child's First Home
Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker
Judged: 10/17/2015

Note: Newburgh-Beacon Bridge was completed and opened in November 1963
         New York State claimed our home via eminent domain and purchased it in 1960
Categories: woodwork, childhood, home,
Form: Blank verse

How You Make the Stars Hush

There is something about 
The way you face your day
With a heart of gold
And such a giving way.

There is something about
The way you endure your pain
As if the stroke 
Didn’t harm your brain

There is something about
The life you live
Loving like there will be no tomorrow
And living to forgive

There is something about
The brother you are
And the son you have been
That makes us more proud by far

It is everything about
The garden you grow
With sweat and tears
As the fruits to others you bestow

It is everything about 
A body half paralyzed
That can produce gifts of woodwork
That leaves us mesmerized.

It is everything about
Your speech so limited
Yet communication 
For you is unlimited.

It is everything about
Your inner soul
That has inspired me
To be so much more

It is you my brother
In all that you do
That have made the stars
Hush for me too.

I have been blessed to have such a brother

Contest:  How you make the stars hush
Justin Bordner
Categories: woodwork, blessing, brother, inspiration, love,
Form:

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member humanity

Poets are the sense, philosophers the intelligence of humanity. ~ Samuel Beckett 

Line of enquiry: Newton’s First Law of Motion (Inertia): An object at rest stays at rest, and an object in motion stays in motion unless acted upon by an external force.

love is contagious 
fall in love 
and many suitors will crawl out of the worn woodwork 
a plethora of choices 
confusing and so tempting 
their motivation puzzling 
spurred on by the common herd mentality 
similar to following the politician who embraces pseudo-science 
they do not have brakes

if you do not love 
everything 
and everyone seem hostile 
escaping to your private abditory 
might protect you from hurtful experience
but like a mixed metaphor 
an implicature will lead to a pratfall 
requiring others to mop up after you 
your inertia inevitably noted 

interaction with others 
forms groundwork 
for relationships 
the external stimuli 
essential for the development of empathy 
open heart and mind 
as a stagnant entity just cannot grow 
but happily balter through the cobbled streets of life 
validate your existence
Categories: woodwork, philosophy, science,
Form: Suzette Prime

Wheelie Bins Know What You'Re Thinking

Wheelie bins know what you’re thinking
Deep down you know it’s true
They know just what you did last night
And they are judging you

And if you think you see them smirk
When you are walking past
It’s probably not the first time
And it will not be the last

Wheelie bins know everything
Much more than you’d suspect
For they grew wisdom from the pain
And betrayal of your neglect

They did not sit there helpless
When you moved in for the kill
They met up with their comrades
And learned transferrable skills

In the depths of all our gardens
They huddled, gaining strength
From knowledge and camaraderie
They learned woodwork and French

So if you think they are mocking you
With their skills in carpentry
Elles parlent français, mon ami,
Ces poubelles de wheelie

Wheelie bins know what you’re thinking
They know just what you’ve done
So do not cross a wheelie bin
For their time has finally come

You’ll find them down the garden
Happy within themselves
Reading Jean Paul Sartre
And knocking up some shelves
Categories: woodwork, funnybetrayal,
Form:

Combined We Be

You're a mad rapper
I'm a mad hatter
Ideas in my head always bleeding
So lyrics you won't be needing
You spit them
I write them
You rap them
I rhyme them
Lines we be exchanging
Like I'd be interchanging
The lanes fast on the freeway
Paving the roads leading away
From the ghetto
Like Pinocchio was to Geppetto
We be each others woodwork
Combined we be the spork
Together in our minds
Like buns on girls behinds
We ain't getting lost
Whatever the cost
We'll stay in the light
Never fly stay and fight
Cause we be the illest
Cough Cough we infect the rest
Wanting to be part of the fuss
They try and copy 'r' us
But they will never ever
Be as swift or as clever...
Categories: woodwork, slam,
Form: Free verse


Rangitoto College

     Textbooks,
             chalk dust,
     young men 
             full of lust.
       School bus, 
          school bag,
     mathematics, 
          what a drag!
       Woodwork, 
             English lit,
     some pass, 
             some quit.

     Autumn leaf, 
          summer sun,
     playin’ truant 
             on the run.
       Fibrolite
                prefab,
     bunson burner, 
            science lab.
       Trampoline,
             gym rope,
     girls flirt, 
            boys hope!


       Written: 1992

             ———

     I attended “Rangi” 
        1974 ~ 1977.
Categories: woodwork, school, student,
Form: Rhyme

Fallingwater

Fallingwater is a house
Designed by Frank Lloyd Wright
And tours are given of its rooms
To bring one great delight.

The home is cantilevered
So the owners'd have a view
Of a lovely waterfall, a vista
Visited by few.

Every door and every window
Can be opened all around
So the residents or visitors
Could relish every sound.

All the terraces and woodwork,
Every fireplace and lamp
Is so obvious a Wright work,
Just as if he'd left a stamp.

After touring and observing
Such a setting so divine,
I can only state the obvious -
I wish that place were mine!
Categories: woodwork, beautiful,
Form: Rhyme

It's Broken

With no computer tying me down
I'm at a loss just what to do.
I've tried reading, crosswords, gardening
writing poems and stories too.

I've done woodwork, painting and cleaning things
the home shines like a new pin.
I've swept the paths and cleaned the windows
and given the hedges a trim.

When the computers been repaired once more
I'll cut back on its use.
No more hours of wasting time for me
No more of that abuse.

My nerves are in a better state
My blood pressure's been reduced
There's been no shouting at the screen
with a face that's coloured puce.

I can actually talk, so I've been told,
in a calm and peaceful way.
No bug eyed bellowing, sounding off
or ranting through the day.

I think I'm cured of computer sickness
I'm human once again.
So when that computer comes back home,
I'll leave the thing alone.

Really!
Categories: woodwork, computer, humorous, technology,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Leavit and the Muscrat Gang

Armadilly Billy needed repair work on the home, as he wanted to move in.
Asking around Troll Lake Town, the answer was Leavit, again and again.
A bit confused, he needed repairs; he couldn’t leave it, like they said, therein.
So he picked up the Acme phone book, and understanding, then, did begin.

It said: Levit T. Beaver for the best woodwork, to be found, anywhere around.
The rumor was: he was once a movie star, before retiring to Troll Lake Town.
He had the scruffiest crew, Billy had ever seen, inept in absolutely, everything.
Called: The Muskrat Gang, they were tied up in chains, yes, the whole shebang.

Doing time for trying to blow up Leavit’s dam, yep, a real, live, chain gang, bound.
Tho, they were really chained up, to stop them, from aimlessly scurrying all, around.
He thought to give them purpose, before he was through, and a new profession, too.
After they tried to empty Troll Lake, to scoop out all the fish, on one crazy afternoon.

What they got was better, as Leavit tried to teach them work, with all kinds of wood.
He stopped them, and saved some mice, lost in a boat, on the lake, on that day, too.
Oddly, love blossomed between Leavit and one of the mice, her name was Mary Ann.
He was lucky in love, as the other mice decided, to rent rooms, to stay, on his island.

Though he had to admit that Gilligan, Skipper, and the other mice WERE a tad, strange.
And as for the Muskrat Gang, well, they seemed, to pretty much, stay unchanged.
After serving their time, Levit T. Beaver, offered to hire them, to help him clean up.
All their scurrying, was perfect for this, as he paid them in their most, beloved fish.

With the Chains gone, a job and home found, they discovered crime did not pay.
So my Moral, my friend, is that in the end… Crime is Never the Way!
Categories: woodwork, adventure, fantasy, fun, funny,
Form: Light Verse

Wormfood

April showers 
thunder on varnished woodwork 
wormy fine dining
Categories: woodwork, funeral, tribute,
Form: Haiku

Close-Open Doors

One door will close and another will open
a portal to something quite new
Turning the knob is at times very daunting
but something we all need to do

There is no telling the places its leading
pathways a threshold will show
Step after step an adventure is calling
you must decide if to go

There you may find in astonishing phrases
words that are sent from afar
Flowers in vases with crystal wine glasses
the light of the first morning star

Chambers and hallways with fine golden hardware
paintings the walls do appear
Mahogany woodwork in arches and stairways
curtains of lace velvet sheer

Maybe a chair that does look so inviting
asking you to take a seat
While in the vestibule, someone is waiting
one you are destined meet

No matter the instance when doorways are open
open as well, up your mind
If you walk through as another door closes
you might be surprised what you find
Categories: woodwork, cheer up,
Form: Rhyme

Anamorphosis

"anamorphosis" 



your eyes
like mundi’s orb
crystal Orion belted
mysterious black opals

Blue globed

opallios light veined,
a Star calls us

Home

some are blind, disinterested;
other windows once jaded
are jewels, like emeralds and 
sapphire skies, topaz earthed

Becoming 

portals to worlds of others,
wide and open minded

what they see
is not the holy see
anamorphosis
ripples truth

the hands and feet 
still bleed

of another soul
in hidden dimension
eventually the grains
are raised, revealed

the metamorph,
radical star seed

out of the woodwork
stone crumbles
and as heads turn
salt is tasted

tears,
pillars burn
 
drones take confessions
we isolate

da vinci 
corpus christi
solemnity on 
a June viral Thursday

starbursts by 3
on a Monday

we commence debating
coffin cities and Georgia stones
where we are guided to numbers
on a Sunday

the puzzle
seen eventually 

arriving in
The Cloud

we look for answers
all doors closed in a world
we are over rated in our vanity
internally, we are All 

I Am 

we are called
we learn about true Love
and why we are born 
when death whispers around us

in our dawn

Now,

translate
salvator mundi.

Souls stretch
in the end, we all
reach for what's seen 
in the Light

of an orb


(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)




“The Gospel of John Hurt” / Alt-J
https://youtu.be/LXkpWY5Y02Q



Lyrics/ “The Gospel of John Hurt”, Alt-J
https://genius.com/Alt-j-the-gospel-of-john-hurt-lyrics 



"Something Extraordinary in Da Vinci's Paintings"
https://youtu.be/JDSnlDeRoKc

"The Search for the Last Supper" 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2pJD5HtlKwg

"The Messiah Before Jesus"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5g13jQYOzYo







1. Salvator Mundi
2. Leonardo Da Vinci
3. Georgia Guidestones
4. The Feast of Corpus Christi
5. Maundy Thursday
6. Metamorph
7. anamorphosis
8. covid19
9. Revelations, Book of
10. The Cloud

11. The Star
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morning_Star
Categories: woodwork, humanity, i am, love,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Neighborhood Elegy

Neighborhood Elegy

There is now, and there is then
white washed woodwork
beauty, green, sky clear
hard working, hometown folks
a good buy.

Die or lie dormant today
cinders to sadness
pockets of politeness placed
particularly on purpose.
drug and drop heaven.

Night footsteps from the old orphan asylum
down the Rayner Ave hill
memories live in floors and darkness
the moon dreams of a parentless son born 
to the sound of cobblestone streets
where youth lives in nursing home 
dreams.

White crisp dresses
and salads drained from the duodenum
shelter the hopeless.
Alone you stand 
amidst the gunshots and sirens
quiet heart within,
creaking floors from the weight of
vapor people.

Children of the golden age,
nursed their atomic nightmares
hugging close to the cold wall
wondering if home is still there
waiting for the bright flash,
crouching low.
So many sneakers, loafers, saddles,
crossed your shellacked stages 
to life.

You were our first love,
skipping in sunlight to summer play
smelling the passion of spring 
growing in the mid-Atlantic night became
your elegy.


3/20/17
Categories: woodwork, change, city, community, places,
Form: Free verse

Futile

I need a new TV stand
So I searched for one on Google,
Deciding in advance that I
Would splurge and not be frugal.

I bounced from site to site before
I found one so ideal,
In every way it fit the bill – 
Too perfect to be real.

My gut reaction was the truth, 
My quest to no avail;   
Though it was beyond compare,
It just wasn’t up for sale.

See, a craftsman who’s a novice
With a talent for design
Did construct just what I wanted,
But it’s his instead of mine.

It was posted on the website
Of a woodwork magazine,
Which the Google team decided
Should appear upon my screen.

Oh, to find and lose an item
So much better than the rest
Means that now I’ll have to settle
For what’s clearly second best.
Categories: woodwork, internet,
Form: Rhyme
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