The Woodworker

The Woodworker

A Chapter by Emily B

He's gone to be with God

with his possum grin

and his flannel shirt.

If the good Lord

has any sense at all

He'll sit down

and listen a while.

I know I would.



© 2008 Emily B


Author's Note

Emily B
I found a post-it in the car. I had remembered way too many words. I put it back to the original way.

My Review

Would you like to review this Chapter?
Login | Register




Featured Review

I hadn't read this one and it is so loaded with narrative, despite its paucity of words. It makes me about what I will or won't have achieved by the time I kick the bucket, and will it, or won't it matter a jot. A very touching and thought-provoking piece.



Posted 16 Years Ago


5 of 5 people found this review constructive.




Reviews

I hadn't read this one and it is so loaded with narrative, despite its paucity of words. It makes me about what I will or won't have achieved by the time I kick the bucket, and will it, or won't it matter a jot. A very touching and thought-provoking piece.



Posted 16 Years Ago


5 of 5 people found this review constructive.

i remember thids one i really liked it.

Posted 16 Years Ago


3 of 3 people found this review constructive.

Hi, Emily. I didn't read this one before, so it's right to me. Reminds me of my father. I use a blue hankie now, which, evidently, by a comment now and then, antiquates me. No surprise there.

With the change at this site, I suppose I will post some old poems for a few weeks. We'll see. Now is a good time for writing, when I'm frustrated at work, homebound by snow and cold and an empty wallet... nothing to distract me.

Posted 16 Years Ago


4 of 4 people found this review constructive.


4
next Next Page
last Last Page
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

1091 Views
33 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 4 Libraries
Added on February 5, 2008
Last Updated on February 28, 2008


Author

Emily B
Emily B

Richmond, KY



About
to the Lost Boys I am no Wendy; but my voice brings you back to me. And you sit around my feet, anxious for a story or a kiss. Listening to my words spinning adventures, like so much g.. more..

Writing
For Emma For Emma

A Poem by Emily B


Old bones Old bones

A Poem by Emily B



Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..