Lift me upon this sunshine
dig me out after all that has happened
i am the true enemy of my own creation
truth above lie and i am the king of tears.
Understand me like i am to burst in words,
I'm full of smell i can take you out with one breath
once i have held this sword it was yours
that my friend is what friends are for.
Your throne will be mine one day,
you will fall and i will rise from the ashes,
stop me now or the world will know,
who i am is a craftsmanship of God.
I was made from pottery and glazed with fortune
i am breakable but on that table we all sit
as one we all believe we will all die together
under this roof nothing can take us down.
Superb yet simple
Glimpse into the craftsmanship
Of Chief Carpenter.
The soul is craftsmanship, a complex filigree,
One moment it dances in laughter, and the next, no reaction spree.
It's the secretive goldsmith of emotions we weave day by day,
With wings of thoughts, while the tiniest feelings can make the balance sway.
Upon us, the eave of the sky sometimes heavily lies,
And yet, we resist, with a shield of will, under the stars and fogs that rise.
I fear, I do not possess this strength, I’m framed elsewhere,
My fluctuations are an ocean, with extreme waves, harsh and without spare.
My temperament battles with sensitivity in a vast sea,
A fight not at all easy, for the soul, it's nearly a calamity.
It's deeply etched in my essence, as fate has inscribed,
And perhaps it empowers me, to shape into words all that I've imbibed.
Protect me, humor, from too much honesty,
You are my shield daily, my safety strategy.
But empty would my universe be, if poetry had none to hear,
Without friends to share verse, life would be just a silent theater, drear.
A poem, I suppose, unlike prose,
is laid upon the page like a painter’s brush.
First the outline shapes complete, background and foundation,
not too neat, but a promise of what is not complete.
And never static, not still life, but land and sea
and sky and earth, wind and wave, and dancing feet.
Some strokes are bold and to the fore.
Others link, not less, not more, but each essential,
as with lace, lest holes appear to spoil the trace.
We are God’s workmanship, His painted poem,
composed, and when complete, fine-framed
in His own likeness. To be like Him,
perfect, pure, refined, unstained.
create a picture
using a pen and paper
needs some craftsmanship
bend these words on the anvil
to make something much greater
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
it is easy to write a haiku/tanka
but the art is to create a picture ..like a blacksmith
it takes true craftsmanship to make it happen with just so few words ..
with this i call it " the wordsmith "
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