Short Masonry Poems

Good Morning Night Owl.
Why do we leave the light on?
Where the Lamp-post sheds its skin.
The Trumpet pours, the passion flour.
Our constitution is number 1.
A dustless preamble.
Borderline masonry must not crumble....

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Great work by hands
Walks the annals of history:
Painting, sculpture, writing 
Carving, masonry, pottery 
Jewelry, carpentry and others
Passed the test of time
Nothing is more beautiful 
Than things made by our own hands....

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Masonry is a good occupation. 
Stone makes for a solid foundation. 
It's a hard job with great demands. 
Thank God for a strong pair of hands. 
A good job is not always done fast. 
However, stone is strong and built to last

Inspired by another member's poem....

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See the weeping stone angels?
Long have they labored in their mossy wetness.

Sometimes I think they are God – why not?
I consider the sorrowing marble a God,
the granite masonry a missionary of God – why not?

And those long falling tears
could they be turning 
slowly to tears of laughter?

Why not?...

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the morning breeze barely stirs the smoke
      from last night's blasts and fire 
            from the artillery,

smoke sluggish with the suffocating stench
      of gunpowder, burnt wood and 
            pulverized masonry,

yet, in this battered building, in an ugly crack, 
       is a lovely nest rebuilt by one
            now joyfully chirping....

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The wall of russet brick, which, once resplendent,
ever crumbles leaving gaps; a toothless grin
slicing landscape. No longer the defendant
between the plebeians and the crown within,
the ancestral barrier is at death’s door; 
rifled masonry builds shelter for the poor,
bridled meadows slowly overgrow the rest;
a child skips oblivious across, now blessed....

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1. 
The cold touch of steel masonry 
it's violent barrage of iron shell
and the crashing thunder with raining shrapnel

2. 
The rain, the mud, and bloody terrain  
swiftly it crashes through the enemy lines
with it, a swarm of bayonets and steel helmets

3. 
Piles of broken bone and empty artillery
raging inferno's and gray smog
bloody bodies and a white flag...

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              - Echo ~ the witness who talked too much - quote by poet

                                         a mournful echo
                           sounds swamped my pulsating heart -
                                       do not repeat them
                                   empty room - masonry wall
                                   historic bells from gray peaks...

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I stack my bricks together
Assemble one by one
Construct myself a barrier
To hide from everyone
My soul's become too fragile
It's shivery and weak
Ramshackled by dishonesty
Enfeebled by deceit
So I've engineered a fortress
An rampart for the pain
Ensconced behind my barrier
I'll never hurt again
So I stack and stack and stack my bricks
My emotion thwarting wall
A soul saving work of masonry
To shield me from it all...

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“Rebuild anew”, he says to me.
The one of stillness ‘neath the sea.
“Rise to the shore; as one we stand.
This hardened castle borne of sand 
conceals your darkest memory.”

A lone wolf blows with certainty
to shatter hollow masonry.
Destruction steadied by still hand.
Rebuild anew.

I crave only tranquility. 
Erase these tortures mindlessly.
My heart is still; my mind profound.
Upon the rock I claim this ground
to reinvent my destiny.
Rebuild anew....

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