Poems by Brother Ollie: the Tired Monk
drat! now what?
It is a very good anvil.
dang...you hitting it pretty hard to break the hammer eh? what are you trying to shape?
ARGH! Hate it when I'm in the flow of a project and a tool gives out. Happens. Guess that's when one centers, breathes, begins again...
Ouch! This poem actually hurts to read! That means it is very, very good!
Oh, I could see the whole thing. The use of utilitarian language was very effective. Task, task, oops! For me, it's breaking off a pencil tip - especially one freshly sharpened.I think it was Alice Walker who told the story of the trees talking to one another. As a woodsman approached to chop down one, the trees said of the axe, "The handle is one of us."Well done, babe! Amy
All that work for naught!
and what do you make of the broken pieces?
I like the sounds here, sharp and crashing ~
Nicely done. I'm tempted to say that it's quite a neat metaphor for writer's block. Too often I feel like I've broken whatever tool i need to get at my thoughts.
So vividly written! This is wonderful.
Your analogy is inspired - I've never thought of the similarities between a smithy and a poet before. Certainly the effort required to bang out something of meaning and worth does raise the sweat and tire the arm.
I've experienced the ax flying off the handle, but never the hammer head splitting against the anvil - in the physical realm anyway. Now in the metaphysical realm, this poem could take me to other places.
And who would write a poem about an anvil? Good job!
I couldn't stop wondering what happened to the workpiece. Anyway not too tragic. Don't know a smith who doesn't have a multitude of hammers hanging on the wall. But it does hurt when you loose your favorite.
This conjured many literal and symbolic meanings...excellent write, once again.
Thanks for helping with the development of Olsonomics.