Short Whittles Poems

In the wee hours 
My queen walks alone
Tonight my
Lonesome whittles
I bring it all to you...

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august evening
grandfather whittles
the light away

Published September, 2009, The Heron's Nest...

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With a pocket knife, he
whittles wood--life in a
wicker chair on his porch.
Willow in yard, breezes
wave this fine tree, planted
when his girl was five.  He
weeps--wonders where she's gone.


     Written 5/10/21
     for Kim Merryman's contest
     "W" Pleiades
     WON THIRD PLACE...

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With a small blue pocket knife
Willem whittles wood, fashions
simple dolls.  His old-age life
consists of morning rations:
stale bread, coffee, a few
almonds, apples he portions
into quarters saving two
for the old gray mare.  Today
cool delta breezes flow through
an unkempt yard; two willows sway.
Willem says his life's okay.
Staring out across the lawn
he sighs--wonders where it's gone....

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Fear not that critique whittles my will, 
Fear that lack of such may wilt my quill. 

Fear not a lonely path in the dark,
Fear my pyro craft runs out of spark.

Fear not golden age’s silent byplay,
Fear that wondering mind goes astray. 

Fear not that I find I don't belong,
Fear I won't find lyrics to my song. 

March 13, 2023...

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There is hearsay of a brighter day
And if it does come my way
I hope it will stay

While the time whittles away
There is no game to play
Struggling with life's daily melee

All I can do is pray
I wont be lead astray
By the things that outweigh
Like the debt of sin I must repay
Only I can defray

With little time there can be no delay
Gods word I must obey
And his love I will never betray
For then he will take away all this dismay

4/19/2017...

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