And all at once
The day arises
Seedlings come to life
Play the role
Of Great Giver
Sustenance of life
Blossoms shoot,
Eagles cry,
Sun casts shadows so sharp
And bustling in
To little burrows
A rabbit uses its nose.
Tag: sharp
Jagged Edge (day 2900)
I unrolled my jagged edge
Splaying all my spine
Wondering if cool sunshine
Would wear away my points
To which I laughed the cruelest laugh
That echoed off the rocks
So then I took out my stone
Sharpening again
Resting much more assured
Cutting edge evermore.
Roses (day 2849)
I smelt roses every morning
Since I left my window open
Morning air carried longer
Freshest scent of care
Where dutiful fingers tended
Each thorny branch, so sharp
Up along my window’s ledge
Down into my heart.
Steel Edged Tool (day 2796)
Fewer things in life feel
As good as sharp steel
The power it beholds
With energy in every fold.
When the stone hits its mark
Every burr and nick removed
Ancient lines of pitted use
Tell stories no one can refute
To be used again ten thousand times
Steel and tool combined.
Growing (day 2783)
I don’t walk with a swagger
I’m not a callused hand
I don’t wish for stars
Or four leaf clovers
I sing with a guitar that holds a tune
But my voice is held under water
In a rusty tin can
So I sleep in a cold corner
With a sore back on my side
I run out of gas
When I’m driving too fast
And my knives all go blunt
So my pencils aren’t sharp
But I’m still trying hard
To grow something again
Hashmark (day 2452)
A passage of my minds disguise
I float the little waves
And carry on in nature’s ease,
I dare not look too far
For far shall be my last rebirth.
But as sweet whispers carry over
Tender ruffles of my mind
I hold a little longer to
Pencils I’ve had perfectly sharp
That count with each hashmark
Dear boldness I’ve become.
Pocket Knife (day 2272)
A handy man should always have
A pocket knife by his side
No better friend in times of need
Could come to be at the ready
Rope was made for just the tool
So was whittling by the fire
And opening each bag of tools
Was fit just for that knife’s service.
Eager was the folding knife
Tucked away discreetly in thy pocket
So, then, was the fixed blade
Attached at a leather belt secure
To become of such valiant service.
For each man holds on to their tools
In which way feels right to them,
So no man shall defame a man
Who holds a knife at the ready
A handyman recognizes a good man
Who keeps a pocket knife ready for service.
But just as important for the handyman
A sharp blade makes one smile
A stone that keeps a blade able
For any task that rests at hand
No handyman should relax as if
Their blade be forever sharp
It is forever right that a handyman keep
Beside every dressing table to thy name
A handyman should keep right there
A handyman’s sharpening stone.
Fire Making (day 2251)
There’s nothing quite like starting a fire
From the very kindling you’ve gathered
Shaved flakes of fresh wood
Because woodsmen don’t use paper
To start their fires.
Each piece of wood weighed and measured
To match each flames intensity
For in its time that fire shall get
A new piece as its fuel.
Handling an axe isn’t a light days work
It’s sharp, and heavy,
And you’ve really got to swing it hard
I you want any work done at all,
For your fire to get nice and tall.
Then as night sets in, darkness itself,
Warmth from your toil and support
Comes bellowing out
In calculated intensity
From within the fire you’ve set
And worked as a good night beacon.
The Ancient Sword That Stole Away With You (day 2195)
If I could be the ancient sword
That stole away with you
One waltz that takes us merrily
To the sea so free.
Each bond you felt that held you back
I’m your liberating sharp
Whimsically eager at your call
Lightly laying aside ageing leaves
Floating our minds upon the breeze.
For your sup I’d fix your cut
Sliced so fine, no toil to chide
A glass of wine to ease your mind
Relax upon my sturdy spine
Your head upon my shoulder.
Hash Marks (day 1908)
In a passage of my minds disguise
I float little waves
And carry on in nature’s ease,
I don’t dare look too far.
But as sweet whispers carry over
Tender ruffles of my mind
I hold a little longer to
Pencils I’ve had perfectly sharp
That count with each hash mark
Dear boldness I’ve become.
