Two tools

the trowel sat next to the door

Waiting to join old familiar friends 

In the worn canvas tool bag

It's shape not quite the same as new

Edges rounded  on skim side

and slightly flattened  on the other

From halving so many common bricks

The hard plastic handle was also worn

From constant spinning 

Gathering shaking down movement

to ensure mortar held in twice smoothed strokes

The hammer lay beside it

rounded blade from constant cutting

Rounded head from broken blocks

with edges straight as factory ends

 

They lie together in memories

Of absent friends

and working days

Of building 

Reviews

[Nan]

it must have been a pleasant working experience for the likes of your poem
friendship by trowel and error, you might say.
I've been in jobs where the conversation was quite good
and the stories kept flowing

you have nice memories, thanks for sharing them

Nan

[Sel Whiteley]

This is a highly detailed desriptive poem which shows how objects can have deeply sentimental meanings because of the memories they bring. Many of my closest friends are builders. It shows masterful use of sound because the varying line lengths of the stanzas are able to emphasise the contrast. But think what I liked best about this poem is how the beginning and end tied together:

the trowel sat next to the door
Waiting to join old familiar friends

and

They lie together in memories

Of absent friends
and working days
Of building

[Ed Hart]

memories laying about, next to the shed, out on the road, down by the bridge, in the photo album; it's the finished things we put out of mind, all the rest, the tools left out, the unsaid goodbyes, that ship that passed in the night, the broken promises, that's the stuff that whispers to us....