Poetry Challenge, V. 6.0, Days 10-12

Well, I get one post correct on the day, and then I have to take a little break, it seems.  Oh well.  This weekend has been interesting from a working perspective.  I began some work on a project that's taken me a long time to think about, because it's a family heirloom.  You see, my grandfather was a teach of industrial arts.  He made a series of chess boards in his lifetime, and my father ended up with one.  It was the board I learned to play the game on.  Over the years, it's taken a beating, and now I have the time, the tools, the skill, and now the design to finally restore this board.  But it's a little more than just simple restoration:  I'm adding and improving to the design, giving it a pedestal and a drawer for pieces.  My father worked on this board many years ago, side by side with my grandfather.  I hope that someday, I can hand it down to the next generation, and perhaps a 4th generation of my family's hands will get to work on the piece.  So one of today's poems is regarding this project.  The rest are exploring the theme of manual labor.  I dunno, I thought  a theme might be nice...


Summer Day

The reel whirls as I walk,
clippings of grass flying behind,
sticking to my legs as the neighborhood kids laugh.
They stop, from time to time,
seeking to understand,
but unable to grasp the concept from our past.
I tried to teach one once -
he couldn't push it, and refused to keep trying.




The alternating pieces,
laid with care in an overcrowded basement,
gnarled hands, the maser of their craft.
A young man by his side,
watching, helping, learning -
only to pass on the knowledge.
Another generation comes,
removes the old varnish, renews the board,
ready to play again,
new life from generations past,
passed down through the hands.




scrap lumber and small boys,
hammers that never get returned,
left to rust in the rain until the lawnmower runs over them,
structures that a fierce wind will destroy,
made of old fence posts driven into the ground,
industry and imagination together,
building a summer of heroes and villains,
of good guys and bad,
adventures of all kinds,
the labors of childhood.

Thanks for reading,

The Fat Kid