craft (47 Poems)
Time for the Fair (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
The cold in the air reminds me of the country fair the candied apple, the hot burnt sausage sub the smell of wet hay, the warm touch of a cow’s side the shriek of the roosters, the squeal of the … Continue reading
The Mason (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
The work of the mason, the building of the foundation, the rock, the stone, the level place upon which the house, the whole structure depends Using his skill to craft, to create, to fill the cracks to make smooth, even, … Continue reading
When the House is Quiet (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
When the house is quiet and the girls are asleep sitting at my desk, at the computer studying, researching a fact, a law the right combination of push and finding honey where vinegar oh it would be nice to use … Continue reading
Craft Fair (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
A dab of glue A sprig of fir A bit of ribbon Craft fair at home. A perfect present, Knick knacks And keepsakes Made by loving hands. Music in the hall Shoppers and crafters. A community Welcoming the Christmas season. … Continue reading
Rolling Stone (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
Like an army general on parade reviewing the troops in the convoy tooling down the highway into battle I drove by the armada of trucks, working soldiers Marching down the black asphalt to toil in the fields of corporate battle, … Continue reading
False Notions, Fears, And Other Things Of Wood (James A. Emanuel Poem)
Repeatedly, that sturdy stump in me bears up like stone, beneath some ritual I see: the blinding axe swings up, holds, that moment of its weightlessness inscrutable till I confirm the arm is mine; I will it, grip, feel moist … Continue reading
Monadnoc (Ralph Waldo Emerson Poem)
Thousand minstrels woke within me, “Our music’s in the hills; “- Gayest pictures rose to win me, Leopard-colored rills. Up!-If thou knew’st who calls To twilight parks of beech and pine, High over the river intervals, Above the ploughman’s highest … Continue reading
Bacchus (Ralph Waldo Emerson Poem)
Bring me wine, but wine which never grew In the belly of the grape, Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through Under the Andes to the Cape, Suffer no savor of the earth to scape. Let its grapes the … Continue reading
June (Denise Duhamel Poem)
The blue forest, chilled and blue, like the lips of the dead if the lips were gone. The year has been cut in half with dull scissors, the solstice still looking for its square on the calendar. Perhaps the scissors … Continue reading
Sonnet XIX: You Cannot Love (Michael Drayton Poem)
To Humor You cannot love, my pretty heart, and why? There was a time you told me that you would; But now again you will the same deny, If it might please you, would to God you could. What, will … Continue reading