The Model Shipwright (for John)

(for my husband John, who'd been at work for many hours by the time this picture was taken)

Refining, shaping,  

Plank by plank,

The model shipwright at 3:00 A.M.

Knows that the time is right

For perfecting his craft.

History of a thousand years

Passes through his fingertips,

Through his blood,

And into digital images

Joining the noble history

Of those who went before,

And those yet to come.

It's a labor of love,

A passion reborn.

Refining, shaping,

Bending the wood

Till the time is right

To set sail.

©  Judith C Evans

 

 

The Day After Christmas

I spent half an hour in the garage this afternoon,
Breaking down boxes from yesterday's Christmas.
I remembered the joy of each unwrapping,
As corrugated cardboard collapsed and snapped in two.
My heart, unguarded after the high-spirited holiday,
Broke more easily than usual today.

Styrofoam planks cracked with a pop
That echoed like gunfire.
White pellets stuck to my clothes.

You carefully opened the door from the laundry,
And helped me fill plastic trash bags with debris.
As you tenderly brushed Styrofoam snowflakes
From my black jeans,
I knew I would be alright.

Then we swept up shards of cardboard
Until the floor was as clean
As the day we moved in.

What I Have Learned

Thanks to the
Rhythmic terrors,
Internal slant rhymes
And piercing metaphors
That bleed through your fingers
And onto the keyboard,
I have learned how to breathe.

You remind me to look up,
Astonished at the infinite blue,
And the sudden cumulus shapes
That silently watch me pray.

© Judith C Evans 2012

Eccentric?

She reads poetry.
So well-rounded!
How nourishing for the soul it is,
To ponder those fine phrases...
And how clever she must be,
To understand such deep meaning.
It must be so stimulating to be her friend.

She memorizes poems.
How admirable!
She and some lucky fellow
Will have plenty to talk about at the dinner table.
And if they ever have children
(Do you think they ever will?)
They will learn to read at an early age.

She writes poetry.
Wait a minute!
How did she turn out to be so...well...
Eccentric?
I just feel sorry for her poor husband.
How can she be a good wife,
With her head in the clouds 
And her nose in a book,
Writing all those poems?
She watches documentaries about artists in Paris
And leaves peeled potatoes on the kitchen counter.
Then she writes a poem about the time she forgot to finish cooking dinner.
I suppose we should be thankful that she never had children.

© Judith C Evans 2012

Shared with The Think Tank Thursday #100 at Poets United. Inspired by this quotation by Tim Burton: "One person's crazyiness is another person's reality."