~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
hammer strikes cedar grain~
a whisper of patience shaped
by bleeding blisters
Granted, Karen was on Top of the World,
her passionate voice brought her Close to You,
We've Only Just Begun, her gems hid pearled,
her Rainy Days and Mondays changed our view.
Bless the Beasts and Children, expressed warm peace,
The Night Has a Thousand Eyes, sleep awhile,
to being Solitaire, Walk On By, please,
Make It Easy on Yourself. Rest a spell.
Called the yard to buy a Ticket To Ride,
Beechwood 4-5789,
from San Francisco to LA, Cal's south side,
it was 1980, a younger time.
So long ago, it's Yesterday Once More,
Karen's Goodbye to Love was my top score.
He came over and over
I served dinner, even wine
he screwed me and the wine
well he uncorked the wine
fixed a squeaky door after the wine
that fixed my little heart just fine
all his screwing around was so romantic
that afterwards
we kissed
at the Master's feet-
light illumes shadow
Your faith becomes sails,
to carve a path to heaven...
where there are no nails!
date: 05/04/23
A carpenter for a clean job poised
And for a new ceiling I rejoiced.
Like soldiers' flag he did ceiling hoist,
His eyes of full true confidence moist...
A carpenter who knows a good joist
upon him you can't a bad one foist,
From afar would pick its sad fake smell,
Long before his hammer hits the nail.
The poised I had his price paid fully:
All that he'd asked for brought duly,
Pledge to not kill his time made truly;
Orders for his drinks given coolly.
A paid carpenter, I know, just works,
For if he does not his bottle corks.
A gentle carpenter
Marys son
meek in heart
the Holy one
Father God
unknown and holy
perfect and pure
the one and only
Healer of our story
worthy of all the glory
Song by Benny Berry
Just A Carpenter You Say
Look at what He has built
He built a bridge to heaven
That comes down to you
Will you not pass it by
For it shall be unseen
To those that seek
To find their own path
But those who need rest
From trying with their own hands
There you shall find
A bridge laid down
That you may find peace and joy
With a new love for all
Taking notice of what
One could be transformed into
For He has showed you
What He has created with His hands
He is the master carpenter
That built a temple
To surround His own
So none could harm
The beauty within
He controls the wind
As His spirit is unseen
But the effects are noticed
That one has found
That bridge to heaven
When sawdust appears
It’s like glitter from the sky
The roar of the saws
Are as music to me ears
When creating this clock
God gifted me thought
When my work was done
I give it another
Just as God has given me
This Gift of Carpenter
Joanne’s first husband treated her like a queen.
He was handy with a toolbox, and built her a fabulous salon.
I was in high school when she asked for a Cinderella stairway.
So the girls who were trying on gowns could walk down the stairs.
Making a Cinderella entrance, showing off for the old ladies.
The gowns she sold reeked of sequins, feathers, lace, pearls.
I remember how excited she was when he finished the stairway.
All of the seventeen and eighteen year old girls in town ran to see it.
We had to try on dresses and walk down those stairs many Saturdays.
Joanne was lured away from her husband by a snake of a guy.
None of us knew what he had but he whisked her off.
She divorced the carpenter, and married the narcissist.
He tried to keep her to himself, but couldn’t.
She finally disappeared; never to be seen again.
We all figured it was his way of keeping her to himself.
Her son was fifteen at the time, and was locked out of the house.
“I never liked that kid!” the narcissist was heard to say.
We all wished she had stayed with the carpenter.
Please, your journeys suspend in winter
Death's Cold on The Body A Printer.
Correct! To Death speedily freeze,
Not salubrious Winter's chilly breeze.
This you tell Your Dearest Jacinta,
I could same say to Christ, The Carpenter;
Asthma's Patients: inhalers or wheeze!
Often, the time to keep saying ‘’Jeez!’’
They are careful who cherish their lives;
If you don’t against self wield knives:
Demand does Survival True Restraint,
On this Sages should not words paint:
It is not The Best of Wisdom
To in Winter assert ‘Legs’ Freedom...
A little rashness cross we The Bridge
And next catapulted to fridge.
You giant animals need my help
Pollinating flowers in my care
Yet you are rude swat at me
To you I have done nothing
That deck you built looks so delicious
I lay eggs there I am not vicious
I sleep all winter buzz all spring
I never get a splinter I'm a carpenter bee!
6/14/22
BEE CREATIVE POETRY CONTEST
Sponsor Matt Caliri
I am a carpenter bee; I feast on your redwood deck
I am a flying wonder who will boldly stare you down
I don’t give a hoot that I’m destructive, what the heck!
While you sit on your porch, I just love to buzz around
Give me enough time and I’ll eat your whole deck away
And I’ll run you out of your beautiful, expensive home
What’s it to me? I have nothing better to do all day!
I see you’ve tried that pesticide foam, I will not roam
For I have hundreds of eggs laid in those cute little holes
And I plan to stay around until my children are hatched
You have your tasty redwood porch, but I have my goals
So, when it comes right down to it, you’ll be dispatched!
Written May 24, 2022
submitted to "Bee Creative" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Matt Caliri
If I had a hammer and a sickle
I’d pound Mr. Putin into a pickle
If I were a carpenter, I’d saw off his limbs
then to a guillotine I’d nail him in
If I were King for a day, I’d tie him to my chair
then plug it in to the electric grid and let him dangle there
If the sun refused to shine, I’d get him drunk on vinegar-wine
and then I’d put him in a cement mixer ~ Laugh all night, I’d get my kicks, sir
~ Thought I'd live out one of Tom Cunningham's unpublished
fantasies tonight ~
There's nothing more I can do,
he said as the blood flowed.
What hurts the most is being abandoned,
he whispered as I took the hammer.
this task is not the best,
you know how it is...
sometimes you just do what you gotta do,
a father does everything for his children
and children need bread.
Soon everything will pass,
he said screaming with the pain of the blows
black eyes fixed on me
before passing out.
his hair drips red sweat,
sinful clouds roll across the sky,
far away the oboes echo
as if asking why.
how many hits are needed
for the flesh to be pierced,
the work finally finished
and I be eternally cursed?
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.