John W. Chance Poems

Click here to listen to "Ye Olde Wordsmith" With each blow sparks flew out into the air,
Traces of light whose hot, incandescent flashing streaks
Scorched their marks in the nothingness that previously existed, leaving
Only a hint of the Toil, and strife, and Sweat of the Smithie as he
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Click here to listen to "The Death of Craftmanship" Derisive comments didn't work;
The old man just kept on working,
As if he never heard the many scathing remarks.
And the more that he produced
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Click here to listen to "The passage of Time" Second after second ticks loudly in my ears
has images of
The stripes painted on the highway recede behind me.
This trip through life is sometimes marked
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