#craftsmanship - Hello Poetry

I did not like What I saw in this Mirror So I changed Mirrors

0

Jan 21, 2025

Jan 21, 2025 at 8:25 AM UTC

MrsTimetable

Mirror

I did not like What I saw in this Mirror So I changed Mirrors

5

The mason works the living stone to shape it for its slotted place. Pale flakes of rock fly as he hones it to a rough-hewn sandstone face. With chisel and mallet in granite hands and flinty grey eyes to plumb the line, the rock gives way in grains of sand. He chips and flicks one blow at a time. His fingers trace each pit and dell that he’d worked in with his iron tools, while nostrils fill with chalky smell — light dust clouds through his workshop move. As one by one his blocks are laid by his apprentice at his side to fill the role for which they’re made: they’ll be joined in one more arch of pride. More arches form as months move past then building up to many a year: They mark the time of a life well cast, his mason’s mark left on each stone sheer. Each arch arises, pointing high to the master mason of us all, who carves and fits in his workshop sky — by shaping, marking us in his wall. Then piece by piece, the church takes shape while grains of sand from worked stones fall; The mason, now old, his final finial makes as falling sand an hourglass recalls. And here I stand in centuries hence to spot the mason’s mark he left behind, his arches pointing upwards whence the mason built his final shrine.

0

Dec 15, 2024

Dec 15, 2024 at 6:54 AM UTC

jackgroundhog

The mason’s mark

The mason works the living stone to shape it for its slotted place. Pale flakes of rock fly as he hones it to a rough-hewn sandstone face. With chisel and mallet in granite hands and flinty grey eyes to plumb the line, the rock gives way in grains of sand. He chips and flicks one blow at a time. His fingers trace each pit and dell that he’d worked in with his iron tools, while nostrils fill with chalky smell — light dust clouds through his workshop move. As one by one his blocks are laid by his apprentice at his side to fill the role for which they’re made: they’ll be joined in one more arch of pride. More arches form as months move past then building up to many a year: They mark the time of a life well cast, his mason’s mark left on each stone sheer. Each arch arises, pointing high to the master mason of us all, who carves and fits in his workshop sky — by shaping, marking us in his wall. Then piece by piece, the church takes shape while grains of sand from worked stones fall; The mason, now old, his final finial makes as falling sand an hourglass recalls. And here I stand in centuries hence to spot the mason’s mark he left behind, his arches pointing upwards whence the mason built his final shrine.

32

I built it with wisdom So that it may survive criticism I built it with caution So that it may retain perfection My love saturated in every action Every pain , impending completion, erased Due to this fatal attraction Every piece Harmoniously placed And finally I rest Seeing your immaculate function Shall I run a test? To temper your reactions

0

Mar 27, 2024

Mar 27, 2024 at 5:27 AM UTC

kasansa-kuya

What I built

I built it with wisdom So that it may survive criticism I built it with caution So that it may retain perfection My love saturated in every action Every pain , impending completion, erased Due to this fatal attraction Every piece Harmoniously placed And finally I rest Seeing your immaculate function Shall I run a test? To temper your reactions

12

You say, creation is the only power. but , what about destructing a stone and carving wonder???

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Apr 29, 2021

Apr 29, 2021 at 5:45 AM UTC

Shwetha

Craftsmind..

You say, creation is the only power. but , what about destructing a stone and carving wonder???

2

A careful cut, it is the stuff, Of which our world is made, Utility and art are fused, The noblest of the trades, A sturdy chair of solid wood, Yet sturdier the heart, Passion, vision, faithful work, The noblest of the arts.

0

Nov 13, 2019

Nov 13, 2019 at 8:12 PM UTC

BrnUa

Woodworking

A careful cut, it is the stuff, Of which our world is made, Utility and art are fused, The noblest of the trades, A sturdy chair of solid wood, Yet sturdier the heart, Passion, vision, faithful work, The noblest of the arts.

8