All About Pocket Knives

Thank you, Tom.

Very nice writings, Ken.

Thank you, Joe. I enjoyed reading yours, too.

Well done, both the writing and the deed.

The poem is wonderful, truthful and easy to understand but isn't it a shame that such fine Patriots have to come together for such a cause?
Treefarmer

I haven't heard a peep out of the Westboro Baptist Church in several years. Looks like the Patriot Guard Riders accomplished their goal. Ooh Rah PGR. Job well done.

jerryd6818 wrote: ↑Wed Nov 06, 2019 6:54 pm I haven't heard a peep out of the Westboro Baptist Church in several years. Looks like the Patriot Guard Riders accomplished their goal. Ooh Rah PGR. Job well done.

Yes Sir, they have been very quite, since the death of their leader, Fred Phelps in 2014, albeit, they are still active. Many members, including family members, have left their organization. As a side note: WBC is NOT affiliated with fundamental Baptist churches. And yes...PGR accomplished their goal in many ways.

treefarmer wrote: ↑Wed Nov 06, 2019 6:29 pm The poem is wonderful, truthful and easy to understand but isn't it a shame that such fine Patriots have to come together for such a cause?
Treefarmer

Yes, Treefarmer, it is a shame, but Thank God, a veteran stepped up and formed the PGR, along with thousands of veterans & non-veterans and did the right thing. It is more of a shame that there are people like the WBC crowd that cause such vile, angry hatred toward those who only want to mourn in peace and bury their loved ones. Of course, it wasn't just our fallen military who had to contend with this group, they protested against many other churches, gays and anyone who didn't believe what they believed. Old dead Fred knows the truth now. Others soon will...

It wasn't meant to be pretty.
Shoot, it wasn't even meant to be seen.
I think it was designed more as a frame to hold the good stuff.
But there it is, just look at it.

Dead, stripped clean, dried out, dyed a different color,
cut up, jigged, hafted, polished and even pocket worn.
Did you hear what that old timer just said?
He said, "Wow, would you look at those beautiful old bones".

Good one, Floyd! Great perspective on your part, a fitting photo, and thought provoking too, well done, sir!

Ooooh, I like that doglegg! And it is indeed "thought provoking ".
I would like to write a similar one to go along with it on the weekend if you don't mind Sir. ??? ???

Thank you WillyC and Ike.
TPK, thank you and I would love to see your perspective.

Ok Floyd, here goes...,


"Old Beauty"

Disrespected & neglected,
Even rejected by some.
Old cars, old tools,
Old knives, old guns.

Who would use em?
Who would fix em?
Make em shoot?
Make em run?

Those old cars,
Those old tools,
Those old knives,
Those old guns.

Yet someone...,
Yearned to have em.
And so they bought em,
One by one.

Here a car,
There some tools,
Here some knives,
There a gun.

Then they cleaned em,
And they fixed em,
Made em sharp,
Made em run.

Those old cars,
Those old tools,
Those old knives,
Those old guns.

A little oil,
A little work,
A little time,
A little love,

Brought back,
All their shine,
Made em all,
Stand above!

Now they all gaze in wonder!
At the deeds we have done.
Old cars, old tools,
Old knives, old guns!

By: Thomas DeVore
November 15th, 2019
22:25 P.M.

Well done T.D.

Sweet!

doglegg wrote: ↑Fri Nov 15, 2019 9:54 pm Well done T.D.

Thank you Sir!
I'm not to crazy about it myself. Thought I could do better than that. Oh well, it is what it is.

Oh TPK, that’s very good! I like!

This did NOT really happen...its but pure thoughts of imagination. I did enjoy putting it together, though.

Enjoy!

‘ THE TREASURED FIND ‘

It all started quickly, a few years back
I went to a yard sale and picked up an old Jack
I fondled and fiddled, it opened with ease
Two wonderful blades, I’m immediately pleased

I looked down again at what caught my eye
I took a deep breath and let out a huge sigh
I tried not to tremble, shutter or shake
I was asking myself, could that be a fake?

I looked around, did anyone else see?
Are they interested too, or is it just me?
I reached back down and snatched up that knife
What in the heck has come over my life?

I looked a bit closer, now tight in my hand
Almost a mint, maybe worth half a grand
The beautiful scales and a perfect blade
Jigged in red with a brass badge inlaid

All I could do was to stare at this find
When suddenly someone came up from behind
“That’s a mighty fine knife you have ahold”
"Gimme twenty-five dollars and consider it sold"

“Are you the seller of this fine vintage prize?”
I asked of him as he looked in my eyes
“That I am, are you interested today?”
“If you’re going to buy it, I need you to pay”

By now my thinking was “why so cheap?”
Why didn’t this man have a desire to keep
Such a beautiful knife worth more than he knew
With each passing moment, my curiosity grew

“You look really confused about my price?”
As he shook my hand, trying to be nice
“As a matter of fact, yes Sir I am”
Still wondering if this man was running a scam

“Well it goes like this, many years ago”
“This knife was bought at an antique show”
“It cost quite a bit, and much more than you”
“Seems I was told, there’s only a few”

“I never cared much for this old knife”
“For you see, it wasn’t mine, it belonged to my wife”
“She ran off with another, but forgot this blade”
“I know what it’s worth and where it was made”

“You’re right, it’s worth a lot more than I ask”
As he smiled with a grin and took me to task
“But this is my way of seeing the light”
“Making me happy and setting things right”

“So I’ll be grateful, if you choose to buy”
“This treasured piece over which you sigh”
“A lasting treasure of days gone past”
“I’ll forever be thankful once gone at last”

So I took out my wallet, aiming to please
Twenty-five dollars changed hands with ease
I walked away with a feeling of pleasure
As I continued to fondle and fiddle my treasure

Who would have thought today was the day
That I find such an item for so little pay
For twenty-five dollars it’s in my hand
A treasured keepsake worth half a grand

Ken LJ © November 2019

That's a very cool poem,
I enjoy what you write,
Thank you for sharing,
It's quite a delight!

Tom

Well done Ken.

Thank You, Tom & Doglegg. I appreciate the kind comments. Seems to be a lot of talent in writing on this forum. I've read everything posted in this thread and have enjoyed each and every one. There is always a story to be told through typed words. Artistic inspiration comes from the mind of experience. Keep up the inspiration!

HANK OF LOVE

If you were in love with someone and you walked
past them so close that you brushed their arm
and that old time feeling came back to when you
were together and you realized that you couldn't
help yourself from still being in love, would you
keep loving and loving? I would. I would keep
loving them to the backs of their heels.

11/22/2007

Very nice Poem Joe!
I especially like that last line "I would keep loving them to the backs of their heels."
That's a really cool expression that is new to me. I like that one, it's a keeper! Thanks!
The expression "Hank of Love" was not on my radar either but I'm not even sure what a "Hank" of something is.
Anyways, thank you for sharing your poem with us. It's great!

Tom

Urchins

Us little urchins hop the fence
and run that deer trail with some sense
of gleaning bugs and flies from knee high grass.

We turn to stream that rolls so sweet
with trees providing, as we meet,
a shade and pleasant whispers in the breeze.

We flip the lure to waters edge,
sometimes a moth, sometimes a sedge,
and hope that swirls of rainbow will appear.

On down the stream with frogs in mind;
the Egret heads for peaceful climes.
We tend to shy from snappers in the marsh.

Our feet are cold, our clothes a mess;
We might be missing lunch, I guess.
We love to watch the muskrats in the pond.

We'll head home soon, there's bears around.
A thought that makes our hearts to pound.
With stealth we'll turn out backs to house and fire.

We make it to our home at last,
it's really not like us to fast.
Warm bread and milk will bring content and rest.

Excellent Joe. Word pictures painted with no strain or forced rhyme. As gentle and flowing as that brook you dipped your sedge in. Again, excellent.