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the craftsman
by Jared Fladelanda man wicks away
at a chopped up piece of lumber
slick slack slice,
chirping away little pieces of wood
until an elf
with griswald teeth
and blueberry eyes
emerges
like a saint accepting knighthood.
Every time I catch the stare
of that little mad hatter,
it makes me sharpen my breath a few notches in tempo
but I think that man,
where ever he is,
died with withered hands,
because he put all his life
into his work. 09/23/2006 Author's Note: that's what creating art is: creating something that affects someone, good or bad
Posted on 09/23/2006
Copyright © 2026 Jared Fladeland
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 09/23/06 at 10:56 PM This was really good.~"chirping away little pieces of wood
until an elf
with griswald teeth
and blueberry eyes
emerges
like a saint accepting knighthood." is what the whittler was... cool concept. Great read. |
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