Love and Lumber

[Qwerty]

My father
with hammer, saw and nails
built a house for his family.

His calloused fingers
served vinyl-coated sinkers
from a leather bag
to the heavy hammer
stitching studs to sheathing
in the tree-covered hills of Tennessee.

My father never taught me
how to hammer nails with words.

It was watching him that taught me
how to make a house a home
by joining love and lumber
with a hammer of my own
and the certainty
I learned from him.

[TrevorConway]

Hi Qwerty,

Very nice poem! I like how the two strands come together at the end especially how you ended it on the more understated idea of learning certainty from him. I thought it could be tightened up in parts, and I didn’t see any great need for the first and last verse breaks. Anyway, some specific comments added below for clarity. I hope it helps.

 

Thanks for sharing,

 

Trev

 

 

My father
with hammer, saw and nails,
built a house for his family.
                                                      [delete verse break]
His calloused fingers   [Any image instead of “calloused”? What do his callouses make you picture when you give some time to allow the image to sink in?]
served vinyl-coated sinkers
from a leather bag [Lovely. “Served” is a well-chosen verb here]
to the heavy hammer [Delete line? Implied that a hammer is used]
stitching studs to sheathing
in the tree-covered hills of Tennessee. [“tree-covered hills” can be improved. Even mentioning specific trees would help, but there might be a more interesting aspect of this region that will jump out at you. From being covered with trees, what else do these hills bring to mind for you? Any particular colours, sounds, scents or feelings?]

My father never taught me
how to hammer nails with words. [Confused me initially. How about “never spoke to me / of how to hammer nails”?]
                                                      [delete verse break]
It was watching him that taught me [Nicely phrased]
how to make a house a home [Feels like a cliched phrase. You can do better, to match the fresher of other parts of the poem.]
by joining love and lumber [Maybe “joining” could be improved: “fixing”? “melding”? “measuring”]
with a hammer of my own [Simple, but appropriate. No adjectives needed]
and the certainty
I learned from him. [Great way to finish. Nice ending for the reader to encounter

[indar]

Hi Qwerty,

As you might have guessed you had me with the title and the poem delivered on it beautifully, very warm and down to earth.

The only nit pick, and it is a very small one, is the end-rhymes in S-4, L-2 and 4. You have lovely internal rhymes, perhaps you could reshuffle a bit.

Love the poem.

[Matty11]

Yes, I thought that was an excellent ending Q. 'joining' in my my mind, in that context of workmanship, felt okay.

cheers

Phil

[Tracy Mitchell]

Q -- I very much like your approach to this - the blending of memory and reflection, your father the builder, you the observer and learner. The tools, the smell of sawdust, the man you look up to is so many ways. I think this is the sort of theme-blend poem you may find yourself writing over and over through the years. I have a few, similar, that I write again with different words, with a different tone, but essentially the same poem.

Cheers.

T

[Qwerty]

Thanks for the feedback. You've all given me some things to consider. The "tree covered hills of Tennessee" was an attempt to have one long line to slow things down a bit from so many short lines. As many of you would suspect, Indar's "The Brotherhood" reminded me of this poem about my father.

[Colm Roe]

Lovely poem Qwerty.
Sentimental without being maudlin.
Easy to read and absorb.

[Interlace1]

Enjoyed. Nothing to add other than it reminded me of Shamus Heaney’s poem ‘Digging’.
good stuff, both poems! 

luke