In the town of Grotzinger there was only one shoemaker left
Old Hanz was known as H to those with long memories of life here.
We rarely ordered custom shoes and boots these days
But we still stopped by for his stories when he was working
what is that? I asked him once upon a time when I was eight.
He explained industrial pliers, cutters, and the cobbler tool kit
Interspersing hilarious stories as he pounded, stretched and sewed
He was happily surrounded by wooden soles and leather heels
It smells in there, I told my Daddy. He nodded because he remembered.
That’s a combination of tobacco, leather, smoke, and H himself.
H had made all of Daddy’s shoes when he was a child.
Made his wedding shoes too. Daddy never wore boots
I made my way to the workshop this morning.
Wondered if it was too early, but H was there.
He was not open yet, but he nodded me in through the window.
His stories were as outrageous and clever as usual; I was home.
The shoemaker dances in the morning
when he makes the children shoes;
the wind and the rain gave him a warning,
but he didn't know which to choose.
"Oh, please will you marry me, Rowena,
and I'll shower you with silver and gold;"
"No, I could never marry such a dreamer,
because a dreamer's heart is cold."
"I'm going to the station in the morning,
with a loaf of bread and a stone;
I'll leave my happy home without a warning,
and I'll travel west alone.
I'll build me a house in California
with a hammer and a nail;
you can't get your freedom by destruction,
because destruction is a jail."
___________________________________________________________
Living simply
rejoicing
in their callings
He, a shoemaker
finest quality
long-lasting leather
She, a seamstress
understated grace
in bridal gowns and accessories
home - Lower East Side
1930's NYC tenement-style
hearts - in Jerusalem
Their bags packed
ready to go
Hark, Elijah heralds the dawn
Oh, Princess fairest of them all,
What troubles you, and what made you fall?
Why Shoemaker so handsome and tall,
I need new shoes, that's why I had a fall.
It's not for a dance or a ball you see,
It's just so I can walk around so beautifully.
Oh, lovely lady whose beauty I can't forsake,
I will make the shoes which you can take.
Thy beauty I can't deny, whose lovey and fair,
I will create thy shoes, so don't worry, don't despair.
Why Shoemaker thank you so much,
I will treasure thy shoes you make, with your loving touch.
How may I repay you, what can I do?
To show my devotion to you?
Oh, fairest princess, lovely and full of grace,
I require no payment just to look upon your face.
Oh, handsome shoemaker that I can do,
I will spend an eternity sharing my days with you.
And so, the beautiful princess had shoes so lovely and fair,
made by the handsome shoemaker who dared to care.
The noddy land
Reality is more than we see in an everyday happening
It stretches further into another dimension we call dreams
but are vital in living life.
What my ghostwriter tries to say is: dreams come true.
I was back in the valley where I used to live and was
greeted by old friends who only appear in dreams
asked me where I had been; if I told they would think
I was dreaming and looked alarmed; has he gone ga, ga.
Footwear is a must in the valley, which is free of cars
I had been the shoemaker making shoes for the ball
and clogs for everyday use when walking on streets
of cobblestone in the valley’s little town.
In this valley, only those who do practical work are
leaders, who get to vote, say, the tillers of the soil
and the men and women who make the food edible
distribute sustenance and feed the people soundly.
The people in my valley are peaceful and friendly
go to bed early, follow the pattern of the climate
this also makes them dull; when I’m well rested
return to the turbulence of earthly days and love.
What one would at last gather
From listening to father:
Certain things go together;
The valiant and go-getter,
A genius and pace setter,
The heart and a pace maker,
Leather,gums and shoemaker,
An entrance and gatekeeper,
Attacker and goalkeeper...
You just have to be super
To join French Paratrooper,
From head to toe vigorous
To contain The Rigorous...
You don't meet night marauders
Obeying patrol orders:
Never assign mysterious
To the ever boisterous.
Golden
Little Golden books,
from our childhood,
line the shelf which sits now lonely.
Their readers, all grown up,
and gone.
Tales of the tails of
puppy dogs,
and Ugly Ducklings.
The elves and the shoemaker,
and Frosty with his friends.
Peter Pan, and Alice
along with the palace of
The Princess and the Pea.
Our own children
have been neglected,
by us, who have been blessed.
We did not pass to them,
what was given freely to us.
We should have done better.
Put away the technology,
and reconnect to the heart,
of every person
both young,
and old.
Gather in the chair,
at the end of the stair...
where father sits.
Listen as he speaks the words,
to your favorite and mine.
Gather in the park,
where mama talks loud
with fascinating tones,
and even sings...
the songs,
of the Wildlings
from the book,
in her
hand.
Give imagination,
a chance,
to be reborn,
in the world.
Live in the reality of the now.
Choose to gain and not to give,
take back everything
and learn to live.
In a three -storey building, with great walls,
Lived a girl who spent her day with dolls.
One day, her family happened to leave in a car crash,
Leaving her alone with their Ash.
In their three- storey building.
Near lived a shoemaker of great skill,
Accompanied by self- satisfaction and a great will.
And a family of three to feed,
But not a three-storey building to reside.
The girl has everything, but happiness is on leave,
The shoemaker still has more memories to weave.
All was the plan of destiny,
To make the girl struggle at a tender age,
Or to keep the man happy without any penny.
Heroes and heroines need to save the world,
on a regular basic to keep the image bold.
They declare that poor people are stupid,
not having the capacity to help themselves included.
Having a barby doll degree in social signs and law,
they know all the better for all.
Famous people become the perfect jingle,
to create attention in dire need to mingle.
While everybody knows,
most money get swallowed by managing NGO’s.
Truck loads of reject shoes for free,
killing the entrepreneurship of the shoemaker clear to see.
10.000 NGO’s in poverty land,
providing change for the rich and brand.
Self elected wasters crown themselves with sympathy,
adding false stories to the conspiracy.
Volunteers of conscious working for free are needed,
reference on CV’s in humanity proceeded.
While in the meantime the economic infrastructure bridles away,
the philanthropist in its new car is on its way.
Entertaining the poor with a noble proof,
to sustain the heart quenching spoof.
Oh, most mistaken guilt so profitable and sweet,
keeping the balance in the account of deed.
Holding down the poor economic contrive to bring,
while riches establish itself to a dull and idle thing.
Village full of boys and girls playing
strong arms around waist romancing
old friends on porch with guitars singing
merry farmers on green hills harvesting
not a bird on trembling wire singing
grabbed by hair like doll earth is shaking
rumbling lava torrents on city descending
burying under darkness encrusting
spitting ashes at planes faster than panicking
anger of revolution once dormant exploding
family tradition of unity unearthing
easy of gadgets virtual love ending.
Boys and girls again in village playing
tailor shops and sound of shoemaker tapping
from complexity to simplicity remnant circling
fields of flowers dancing and robins singing
knees in gratitude bent marveling
at mystery of Love life continuing.
Limerick : Once Schuhmacher/Shoemaker from Brazilia
Once Schuhmacher/Shoemaker from Brazilia
Made a shoe shaped like the Ark of Noah
Birds and beasts of forests
Fought acarien* pests
Till toes itched: that’s how Man danced the Salsa!
* mite
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Stay over, forever
my unusual love,
stay over, forever
There’s nothing left here
without your rear love,
but high pitched emptiness
I’ll drill and till harder,
non stop,
till I cultivate you into my immersed care
I will never quit
nor faint against the current of our love
Stay over, forever
my unusual love,
stay over, forever
and bloom up the fullness of our love
which will overflow the bowl of our gloominess
this will make our sorrows stomach its envy
and rest in peace
Then we shall solemnly concede,
and become a fountain of love
And finally,
we shall retire heartbreak,
and make it become a retrench shoemaker
with a logo of shame, titled ‘an ex-heartbreaker’
While I will forever remain yours heart-maker
SHOEMAKER DADDY - A DUO-RHYME (12 lines)
His workshop’s open now I see
He will not notice - it’s just me.
His tools, his nails, his leatherware,
His hammers large and small are there,
All ready for his hands to bear
When he returns to take his chair.
The shoes he makes are neat each pair,
And some are leather dark or fair,
They’re crafted all with love and care.
So here’s my secret silent prayer :
I hope he takes me on his knee
And makes me some in small size three.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Entered in Andrea Dietrich's Contest Duo-Rhyme,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . .
Note
Based on personal chldhood experience of watching my father make
and mend shoes. He also taught me how to do it when I was a teenager.
When Will We Learn
Another day lingers,
trying hard not to die.
Another day lingers,
trying hard not to cry.
This man of talent, God given talent,
A shoemaker by heart, toils
unselfishly both by day and
night, trying hard not to die,
trying hard not to cry.
Assembly lines with very much speed,
Cast aside this man’s talent – no longer a need.
Oh sweet little shoemaker, oh gifted one,
a life once happy, full of fun.
His memories we will cherished, you see he’s gone.
May he rest in peace, his talent has flown.
One less blessing we learn to live with out,
When will we learn? When? Why don’t somebody shout!
dedicated to Hans Christian Andersen
------------------------------------------------------------
He lived in Denmark many years ago.
He was the son of a shoemaker,
and he loved to dream very much.
His dreams turned into
magic fairy tales,
but no one wanted to understand them.
People laughed at the Story-Teller.
And they often teased him.
Now, when I am dreaming,
my dreams turn
into magical fairy tales.
But people laugh at this,
and often, they tease me
here in Russia.
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