Weightless As Shavings Poem by Sandra Fowler
Weightless As Shavings
The old man's hands had spared severity.
Time fell weightless as shavings on his knee.
He carved a little bird out of stove wood,
Fit it for story books as best he could.
Imagination made that sparrow soar,
Though vision from his neighborhood was poor,
He saw it paint its picture on a cloud
And clapped his hands to see a thing so proud.
He knew old bones would never make the air
Yet by his proxy he was always there,
Imperfect but certifiably,
All that a stove wood bird was meant to be.
tremendously moving work, Sandra. your last line, serenely melancholy, seems to lie perfectly between acceptance of what we believe we are and hope for what imagination allows us to be. memorable work. -Tailor
Oh this is just wonderful Sandra, you definitely brought the reader into this one. I felt calm while sitting watching the old man carve his beautiful bird. Lovely imagry Sandra, thankyou once again for sharing such beauty and producing such warm feelings.---Melvina---
Sandra, you've so eloquently carved a precious symbol of life's simple pleasures. Beautifully done!
I was touched by the title, before I even opened this one - and it didn't disappoint. Sandra, you have a special gift for transforming little glimpes of ordinary life and turning them into finely stitched creative tapestries. love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I did not only visualize the scene but sat alongside the old man, felt his joy - saw the bird fly as did he...beautifully written
My friend L&T said it best, as she always does. Beauty is something a poet must create in order to qualify. This poem is pure in it's Beauty. GW62
A truth of life so beautifully and gently potrayed. Take care
time fell weightless as shavings on his knee....WHAT an astute image! You have done many things with this poem, Sandra. He may not be able to fly as a bird, but his heart has, and always will. I was sitting with this man, watching him carving that little bird. You put me in the chair next to him. Great going! ! ! xxElysabeth
Through you I was not only able to see the old man in his world, but I felt I was able to reach out and touch his soul. The relationship between the carved wooden bird and the old man, was heart melting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/6/2025 7:54:50 PM # 1.0.0
It's always a pleasure to bathe in the warmth of your words, Sandra. We all retain our flights of fancy, young and old :) Best wishes. jack.