Wednesday, June 27, 2018

“KNOW YOUR MESS”… 1983 (Mark's tribute to his dad)

My father's workshop, a busy space, but so many tools out of place. 

Tools smeared by oil, others by grease, some should be labeled 'rest in peace'.

Hammers hang longing to drive the spikes, he leaves us room for broken bikes.

A new table saw, the smoothest cut, sits near paint many years closed shut.

Spare belts and tires for the car, he's now prepared to go very far.

Can of brake fluid for his stops drips off the shelf … many silent drops.

Slew of tiny screws, stack of wood, things he might use, things he never would.

My mother, his love, can't understand all of these things without a plan.

She brings ‘it’ up and he says “yes”, but never has time to plan the mess.

Taking blades off the mower my father helps me ...I move over.

He asks for a wrench, I hear of cost, he always knows when they are lost.

Then he asks me for the pliers, but I last saw them by the tires.

He gets up and looks for the pair, but they have vanished into thin air.

Looking around he knows where they are, he has to look some, none too far.

It takes a man years to know his mess, were all his tools lie, more or less.

My father’s work shop, lots of space, and every tool, he knows it's place.

7 Comments:

Blogger Marie Smith said...

Oh how true! Love this Ginnie!

4:57 PM  
Blogger troutbirder said...

We're downsizing these days and I had no idea of the size of our mess. The "treasures" of two collectors now being examined by our sharp cold non sentimental eyes seem much more like a junky mess these days...:)

5:18 PM  
Blogger Anvilcloud said...

A good way to preserve memories: a Mom's poem about her dad's workshop.

4:26 AM  
Blogger Arkansas Patti said...

I loved this. Such a tribute to a man who is totally organized in his own mind and gives of his skills.

12:55 PM  
Blogger Beatrice P. Boyd said...

A very nice tribute, I agree, Ginnie.

5:23 PM  
Blogger possum said...

I love it!
I remember my evaluation one year - I was an art teacher, about 20 years in, and the evaluating team asked my kids about this and that- to show them what they were doing, where things were to do this or that... I got high scores with the comment: Organized chaos. LOL! My kids and I knew where every thing was, which cabinet, all the pottery tools, print making tools, paints...
In my old age, my chaos is not quite as organized.
Love your poem!

4:48 AM  
Blogger Joared said...

This is a delightful poem! Makes me think now of my “mess” that’ sometimes seems like organized disorganization or is it the other way around?

12:59 AM  

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