Friday Poem
© 13 May 2011 Luther Tychonievich
Licensed under Creative Commons: CC BY-NC-ND 3.0
other posts

Friday Poem

An small meander regarding glass professionals.


Untitled Poem

The glazier cuts and sets the pane,
  The gaffer blows the jar.
And both know well that glass means pain;
  Both cuts and burns can scar.

So why then does the glazier stand
With bloody lacerated hand
And claim his job is oh-so-grand,
  E’en when a slip might flay?
And why should gaffers speak of “‍art‍”
When white-hot glass strays near the heart,
And not seek out a safer part,
  Like making jars of clay?

I err when safety I extol;
  The dangers bring no fear.
It’s laboring that sates the soul;
  The loafer sheds the tear.

Looking for comments…

Loading user comment form…