Weathered Wood

a poem about a man and his name

Weathered Wood

As a young man he spent his time,
Carefree and to himself,
He roamed the land, over hills and sand,
Determining his own wealth,

In the mountains of his wanderings,
On a big tree he carved his name,
He left his mark, deep in the bark,
Where he hunted for his game,

As years went by he often
Returned to the hills he explored
That tree he would find, for in his mind
It was symbolic of the land he adored,

Then came the autumn of his life
He could no longer make the trek
Though he wanted so, to get up and go
His old body was quite a wreck,

So he decided to settle down
And make his own rocking chair
He devised a plan, for he was a wise man
But for him, there was no way to get there,

You see he wanted to build it
From the trees of the forest he prized
But it had been so long, he was sure they'd be gone
And the thought was futile, he surmised,

So he settled for some old scrap wood
To fashion his chair as he planned
And there in the pile, he saw with a smile
An old weathered log with his brand,

Well he knew it must be a sign
That to him; his tree was returned
To create with his hand, with wood from the land
That was rescued from a forest that had burned,

As he reminisce of his existence
On his old porch, the chair slowly rocked
Day by day, time passed away
Then one evening, the old rocker stopped,

Weathered and worn when passing
Both the chair and his memory
Yes life had been good, and he loved the wood
For his name is carved in its history.

Reviews

[Azifwecare]

a nice tale of a woodcraftsman. I liked the line "then came the autumn of his life" I've often struggled with my own work in the past how to word things differently to make my stories more interesting they way they are woven, so this line popped out at me. Loved your story, T
I look forward to reading more.

[Trace]

I'm a story teller at hesrt. I come up with an idea and just start writing and let my pen go where ever it goes.

I'm so glad you liked this story.

Huggs, T.

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Trace... reminds me of the Auction of an old violin (poetry) where no one wanted to bid and when an old man in the back put the violin under his chin and placed the bow on the strings ... the most beautiful music was played... and so it goes.. as we age... we are worth so much more.... Amen Pat

[Lydia Shutter]

Bittersweet loveliness in this one. The young man who carved his name in the tree ends up in a rocking chair of the same wood....till he is no more. The rhyming is lyrical and flawless, Trace. Beautifully written. Lydi**

[Trace]

Thank you so very much for your wonderful comments and compliments on this poem, I had this in my mind for many years before finally writing it. It started with a poem I wrote when I was in the army at the age of 17. (An old mans passing day) I am so glad you liked it.

Huggs, Trace

[MsJewel]

You are so talented. Is there anything you can't write about? Love this.
Hugs, Julie

[Trace]

Thank you so much my dearest friend.
I am glad you liked it and I really appreciate your commenting on it.

Huggs. Trace