Woodsman Poems - Poems about Woodsman

Early in a damp woodsman's camp seeing sawyers from a logging town to stop the conversation bogging down as asked my age among other things I replied, 'Cut off my head and count the rings,' then had to be quick-witted and fast-footed made a bee-line through the trees so as not to lose my noggin when a burly lumberjack grabbed his axe I ducked...

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He is a quiet, gentle man with a friendly, easy smile. He's helpful and considerate, honest, without guile. He works as the county game warden, his family lives in the dell. Well mannered, friendly, peaceful folk but no one knows them well. If ever there is trouble he's there to set things right. There is a strength within his eyes...

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There she sat watching him swing his axe. Her need turned to affection. Watching, waiting to see what happens next. The trees mimicked the times he's spent in her eyes, The woodsman who gathered logs for his cottage not too far. Soon he’d look up to find her gaze. There he stood, his axe coming to a halt. Alluring was she, the fox...

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there was a woodsman called jacks who swung the worlds sharpest axe one or two chops thats all giant fir trees would fall that's the fun fallen fir facts...

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He is a quiet, gentle man, With a friendly, easy smile. He's helpful and considerate, Honest, without guile. He works as the county game warden. His family lives in the dell. Well mannered, friendly, peaceful folk, But no one knows them well. If ever there is trouble, He's there to set things right. There is a strength within his eyes, That no one wants to fight. He...

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there was a woodsman that lived in rosewood approached a nymph sleeping in underwood a gambler loved by the bards sat down with a deck of cards with sleight of hands lost his axe, boots and hood 4/11/2018...

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