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Well yes I do carve walking sticks Not two or three hours But more like thirty or fourty But then I saw the connection Between my poetry and wood Each takes me into another world Of rhythm oh so good Where I hear you ask Can this connection be made A poem and a walking stick This man is surely mad But think dear friends about a how poem does evolve You start with just a single word Then watch the poem grow I walk in the woodlands I walk the forest ways And I see things That you might miss In the coppiced hedgerow lays And so with my trusty folding saw A wooden stave lies in my hand Perfectly straight or warped Wood, oh wood so grand And so just like poetry the plan Then starts to form With penknife and a wood rasp A walking stick is formed Sandpaper grades decreased And long hours pass Eventually that rough hewn stick Attains the sheen of glass Yes I carve sticks with rustic pride Never do I miss what the cuts might hide When I write it is with love I can edit a poem But not a walking stick
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Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
I Carve Walking Sticks ii
Well yes I do carve walking sticks Not two or three hours But more like thirty or fourty But then I saw the connection Between my poetry and wood Each takes me into another world Of rhythm oh so good Where I hear you ask Can this connection be made A poem and a walking stick This man is surely mad But think dear friends about a how poem does evolve You start with just a single word Then watch the poem grow I walk in the woodlands I walk the forest ways And I see things That you might miss In the coppiced hedgerow lays And so with my trusty folding saw A wooden stave lies in my hand Perfectly straight or warped Wood, oh wood so grand And so just like poetry the plan Then starts to form With penknife and a wood rasp A walking stick is formed Sandpaper grades decreased And long hours pass Eventually that rough hewn stick Attains the sheen of glass Yes I carve sticks with rustic pride Never do I miss what the cuts might hide When I write it is with love I can edit a poem But not a walking stick
joe-cole
Written by
English
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
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