Sunday, September 13, 2009

The Master's Hand

Written by: AmandaLyn

The door creaked open, a gentle groan, sent a bell tingling.
It was a step back, opening a memory, a journey through time.
Hardwood, dust, oil and wax, scents of ages past, did their part,
Lifted spirits from cracks and crannies, set them free to roam
In one corner, in the back, he sat
Guitar on his knee

Strings gently humming.

Quarter-sawn oak, beveled lead glass, polished brass clasps
A woodcarvers canvas, chiseled roses and vines entwined
His inspiration? Love? Pride? It showed with each cut
A masterpiece true, Crowned with a finial fine
He sits gently strumming
A song on his lips
A serenade so befitting

Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa men have named you A masterpiece, canvassed lady with mystic smile She danced in the room, waltzed past mildewed books Chipped tea sets and treadle machines long forgotten, Ancient love’s labors Now cold and lonely

Works of art.


Paula and Elwood's Poetic Palace said...

This is lovely, Amanda
I love the nostalgia. Opening a door which leads to a long ago, wonderfully , simpler time , when there was pride in craftsmanship. If only we could get some of this back as easily.

Thank you for sharing and for joining the blog. We look forward to showcasing more of your work and are honored that you considered us worthy :)

Anonymous said...

noo, it's I who am honored to be included among such talent. Thank you.