The Making SkillA Poem by PoemsbyPatrick
Many love to tinker in their shop,
Making things from wood and metal too. The tools of making things, As much an interest as the making. I have made things with my hands, In days of long ago. I even worked with wood, For money in my life. I watch the craftsman's handiwork, And marvel at his care. The gentle touch he uses, To coax the pieces fit. I do not make things real these days, My work more subtle yet, I build the thoughts and minds of others, With word and deed combined. This building of the mind, Is difficult to see. It does not lend itself to touch, Or assemble as it's meant to be. The craft requires kindness, Discipline and strength, A willingness to humble, Oneself against the strain. The outcome is uncertain, The process unrefined, Requires ample fortitude, And agile temperament. When finished, My work is yet undone, The pupil learns and grows beyond, My lessons as they go. Not all can see the impact, My building has produced, And yet I see the difference, Though subtle and diffuse. The greatest joy of making, Is appreciation of a makers skill, They seek not the public praise, Yet calmly mold the pupil's will. When the pupil does fulfill, Their strongest goal desired, The appreciation goes unsaid, But the outcome is admired. I dedicate my making skills, To this a noble feat, The making of a person, Who's happiness is complete.
© 2013 PoemsbyPatrickReviews
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StatsAuthorPoemsbyPatrickPAAboutThese writings express my feelings. If you love them, I feel blessed. If they bother you, I am sorry. They are my feelings and I offer them to you as they are. While all of my writing is a glimpse .. more..Writing
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