A Handcart and a Ring
A man I knew had a handcart and became self-employed
I often saw him in the town with a load of parcels and sometimes furniture
He was a contented man.
One day, on his way to the railway station, the wheel of his cart came off
four suitcases fell into the street.
So, what to do?
He traced his steps and soon found the missing pieces that kept the wheel
on the axle, but he also found an expensive diamond ring
he put it in his pocket as he was occupied with fixing the wheel
and get his load of suitcases to the railway station
In the paper, he read about a lady who had lost a dear ring
he contacted her via the paper, and she was happy,
she didn’t give him any money because, as she said, honesty has its reward
The people at the paper thought this was too mean for words
made a collection and handed the kind man the money.
A Picture of him and his cart, the paper, and a nice story for the paper to sell.
when too old to push his cart around, he became a poet of the small things in life
and not about the life of aristocrats
Categories:
handcart, 2nd grade, absence, allegory,
Form: ABC
A day when nothing happened
It was a harmless morning my old friends had married
When I was at sea, a boiled egg for breakfast
took the bus to the docks, I had a dingy there and tried my luck fishing
Got two fish, wrapped them up in a newspaper to give to the cats in the neighborhood, and went for a shower at the communal bathhouse
Later I had coffee and a Napoleon cake, the waitress was very fat she sweated and was ill at ease, gave her an extra tip.
A slow-moving car, many people walking behind, and since I was going the same way I joined the walkers for a while
At home I switched on the TV to a woman singing and playing guitar badly; luckily the news came on, an accident near the railway station a handcart had opened
and several suitcases damage.
Opened a new book by Axel Sandemose and read his work in the early morning.
Categories:
handcart, absence, caregiving, cinderella,
Form: Blank verse
The gunslinger entered the tiny town of Tull
A town that was cast under his enemy's spell.
First smiles, then lies, last gunfire came,
Then Tull lay dead, in the gunslinger's name.
Through the huge desert, thirsty and sore
Still he kept walking, till he could walk no more.
He came to a way station, water was there.
He drank his fill, with water to spare.
A boy name Jake was waiting for him
Together they chased after Walter O'Dimm.
A handcart, slow mutants, a mountain to climb,
Roland liked Jake in just a short time.
But Ka is a wind, or a very strong breeze;
As Jake said, "There are other worlds than these."
To his death he fell, in the valley far below.
Roland watched him fall and he let the boy go.
Across the mountain, he caught the evil man--
They smoked, they palavered, as enemies can.
The Dark Man showed him things that would be,
The Sailor, The Prisoner, and Lady of Shadows were three.
They talked till the universe was born and reborn
The gunslinger slept for centuries till morn.
D H Loewen
Categories:
handcart, adventure, allegory, analogy, boy,
Form: Ballad
Small Beginnings
To record the simple things in life is important because they are a mirror
of everyday folks life. “A Person collided with a hand cart a suitcase fell
off and was damaged,” this news, from the local paper.
What do we know? The owner of the damaged suitcase could develop
a hatred against handcart handlers and set out to eliminate them.
Another handcart driver found murdered, the police are baffled, the only
The clue is a broken empty hand luggage it had been purchased in a Chinese
shop and had many finger smudges on.
At the beginning of this murder spree few took an interest but when 25
Handcart handlers had been murdered; it was time to avert the sight stop
slandering Putin and useless civil wars in the Middle East, take a vigorous look
the social system. A young reporter, now a respected political journalist
was able to solve the case, because he was the one as a cub reporter wrote
about the accident, remembered it only because the hurt in the eyes of
the suitcase owner’s eyes, the beginning of an unforgiving hatred
Categories:
handcart, birth, blessing, blue, boat,
Form: Sonnet
A Handcart and a Ring
A man I knew had a handcart and became self- employed
I often saw him in the town having a load of parcels and
sometimes pieces of furniture, he was a contented man.
One day on his way to the railways station one wheel of his
cart came off and four suitcases fell into the street.
So what to do? Traced his steps and soon found the missing
pieces that keep the wheel on the axle, but he also found
an expensive diamond ring which he put in his pocket
as he was occupied with fixing the wheel and get his load
of suitcases to the railway station
In the paper, he read about a lady who had lost a dear ring,
he contacted her via the paper and she was very happy,
but didn’t give him anything because as she said honesty is
a natural thing and should not be rewarded. The people at
the paper thought this too mean for words made a collection
and handed the kind man the money. A Picture of him and his
cart the paper and a nice story for the paper to sell.
And when too old to push his cart around he became a poet
of the small things in life and not the life of aristocrats
Categories:
handcart, age, analogy, angst, blessing,
Form: Blank verse
The Martin Handcart Company endured
a frightful winter in their journey west.
Yet through it all, they would not be deterred,
for with strong faith and hope these Saints were blessed.
Louisa Mellor, in her journal, gave
accountings of their hardships in the cold
and told of how they struggled to be brave
while many died, especially the old.
They'd shovel snowy roads, and they would wade
through icy streams; her mom once stayed behind,
kissed them bye and wept; Louisa stayed
and prayed. When she arose, what did she find?
The Lord must not hate sweets, for she would spy
nearby on snow for sustenance a PIE!
*There are many miraculous accounts from old journals
of LDS pioneers who crossed the plains in the 1800's
to make a home in Utah. This is my sonnet rendition
of one such story which I read about in a church magazine.
Here is just one source where you can read about this faithful
woman:
http://ldswomenshistory.blogspot.com/2010/03/mary-ann-mellor-and-louisa-mellor-clark.html )
For the FAITH contest of Diane Christian
Categories:
handcart, faith, faith,
Form: Sonnet
On Bourbon Street in the vertical rain,
In the dominance of shadowed domain,
Where the swamp gas reeks of a distant death,
Faint and remote like a dying breath,
Steam rises up from the cobbled ground,
And dreams misplaced are seldom found.
The rats in the quarter bristle and dart,
Conveyors of plague from an evil heart,
And the legions of dead stay where fell,
Whilst the ringing out of the handcart bell
Sounds like a warning from far away,
A signature tune for judgement day.
As fog wreaths the streets like a living shroud,
A vampire moon breaks through the cloud,
And dogs with rib serrated skin
Howl at the sky and the wailing wind;
The lord of damnation stalks the night
Eyes of blood lust burning bright.
The cathouse sprawl lies silent, still,
The whiskey bars no longer fill,
The hulls of ships tied at the dock,
Creak and groan and gently rock,
And all the oil lamps cease to burn,
They gutter out at his return.
On Bourbon Street where walk the dead,
Eyes of blood lust burning red,
Comes something wicked, black and cold,
Which human sight should not behold,
With pallid face and razor-teeth
And vampire moon to stalk beneath.
Categories:
handcart, death, life, people, places,
Form: Narrative