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Betty Aug 2020
To lift a simple block

To see the shapes within the living wood

To take a tool and chip away

To find the natural beauty

To change the form and bring new purpose

That is a carpenter!
rgz Sep 2019
I just got ignored
so I pray to the devil
cause he listens more
understandable
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2017
oh, these messages, you send,
invitations to a gala, a black tie affair,
but only if willingly pay the exorbitant fare,
your money's no good, you must dare,
find and write the poem hid within

how cold are the carpenter's hands,
the weather, but an added obstacle,
this heat, makes dying different difficult,
the wood bearing cross requires additional nails
and flesh, for the extra load he's bearing,
when it snows blood in Jerusalem

the whole world can transition
when one man dies and another is risen,
where oh where lies then, the juxtaposition?

there is none, for man is man,
his divine spark, embedded,
to his maker's mark, wedded,
neither snow or sun,
can ever, either, extinguish*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
any message you send can and will be turned into a poem
"how cold are the carpenter's hands"... patty m

patty m  Divine intervention
extensions of grace
kiss the doubt from the
blind man's face.

Yet all are blind and deaf
so few left who truly believe
when tricksters smile and
cunningly deceive.
Where is the lamb
who died for man
how cold are the carpenter's hands.
Jerusalem where all roads lead
in winter white your sorrows bleed.
Lie still awhile and mull the words
all creatures big and small wo;; be spared
if on they believe, repent, circumvent the globe
frontal lobe what's in this treasure trove? myrrh and frankincense. stabled now in a manger
of hay, Earth Christmas Day.
Rooster Apr 2017
When she was young, she'd listen to the radio
Waitin' for her favorite song
When it played, she'd sing along.

When I was young, I'd listen to the radio
Waitin' to hear her
When she came on, I'd sing along
Just like she did.

In your youth, a few weeks ago, you've never had to wait
to hear your favorite song
to hear your favorite artist
to sing along

It's never yesterday.
It's not even today.
It's always Right Now.
And Right Now Once More.
And once more after that.
Right.  *******.  Now.

We're doing 75 miles an hour down the highway and a song pops into your head.  You, Digital Native, are only a few clicks of your radio dial away from every song ever recorded.

"What's a radio?  Why do they call it a dial?"

That's when we get to the part
Where you're breakin' my heart.

****** doo lang lay, kid.
****** doo lang lay.
http://www.freerangepoetry.com/?p=330
AuntieBelle Jul 2014
Fly man cried for
a big glowing squirrel ran
around
his fat farm
ball.
He ate
my magic
joy
frog.

He blames me;
the milk
was spoiled
before
I
knew
the carpenter's dream
or
the fist
of
darkest
unspoken
desire.
Don't date narcissists and don't **** with my magic joy frog.

— The End —