Pocket Passage Ways

It was his dad’s, dad before him
Encrusted by past down heritage
Anew, it’s been, passed down worn
Down inside to outside passages
Pocketed in father to son journeys.

Its nurtured blades had sibling multi Swiss uses
Taking branches to kindling, starting campfires
Then it had been cutting edge on meals
That stabbed meat into awaiting mouth.

Boasting it could take on, any tree timber
The Paul Bunyan axe blade, did much better
But when it came to whittling up - fond memories
As fathers shaved it down, son’s did fall off to sleep.

While lucky pieces, resembled God knows what.
One good fork, would turn into a slingshot story.
While most of the time, it tried to perfect - the perfect
ToothPick, to pick your teeth, after open hearth meals.

Serene father, puts son in sleeping bag, then he reflects back
When he was put into blanket rolls, by the boy’s grandfather.
He tosses his HeArt work at peace into the embers trailing time
They sizzle and spurt sparks onto Heaven’s Peace and Tranquility.

Saving some tears, Dad tosses His Swiss HeArt Work –
Rested In Peace Full Filled Tranquility
They spiral like Swiss knife corkscrews
Amid still flair affair images
That be passed down
Father to Son Time -
Pocket Passage Ways.

HeArtMosphere Poet



Pocket Passage Ways

It was his dad’s
dad before him
Encrusted by past
down heritage
Anew, it’s been
passed down worn
Down inside to
outside passages
Pocketed in father
to son journeys.

Its nurtured blades
had sibling multi Swiss uses
Taking branches to kindling
starting campfires
Then it had been
cutting edge on meals
That stabbed meat into
awaiting mouth.

Boasting it
could take on
any tree timber
The Paul Bunyan axe blade
did much better
But when it came to whittling up -
fond memories
As fathers shaved it down
son’s did fall off to sleep.

While lucky pieces
resembled God knows what.
One good fork
would turn into a slingshot story.
While most of the time
it tried to perfect - the perfect
ToothPick, to pick your teeth
after open hearth meals.

Serene father
puts son in sleeping bag
then he reflects back
When he was
put into blanket rolls
by the boy’s grandfather.
He tosses his HeArt work
at peace into
the embers trailing time
They sizzle and spurt sparks onto
Heaven’s Peace and Tranquility.

Saving some tears
Dad tosses His Swiss HeArt Work –
Rested In Peace Full Filled Tranquility
They spiral like Swiss knife corkscrews
Amid still flair affair images
That be passed down
Father to Son Time -
Pocket Passage Ways.

HeArtMosphere Poet