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Saint Joseph of Carpenters

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Saint Joseph guide him well today, As he works, along his way Bless his plane and bless his axe, My husband joined may no saw take. Protect him well for his sake, The Lord himself was called a carpenter’s son, Dwell here with us for thought I fear, His worn hands are blessed indeed, Help us both for those you love, I pray in your spirit, guide him well. Amen. I wrote this for the Woodworker's competition at Bardic this year. I entered not to win but because I really loved the challenge of doing research, finding out period legends of Saint Joseph and getting to go to the library and use lots of different searches to find the material I was looking for. I loved it!
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Alienor

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My favorite French poet is François Villon. He was a bit of a "bad" boy poet of 15th century France but his poetry is masterful and speaks of common life in his time. This poem is based on an acrostic he wrote. A reading of Villon's Testament By David A. Fein page 37 discusses the particular work I used. There is a preview of those bages at google books here: http://books.google.com/books?id=T70is4h90SMC Alienor Allons-y au départ, c’est l'aventure ou rien Liaisons d'amour ou amitié main en main. Ile de France, centre belle Est-ce que tu es encore fidele ? Noyant pas dans l’hiver tristesse Ore de printemps arrive en vitesse Remplie mon cœur en son jeunesse.
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The Pheonix in Fading Summer

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Somehow, I lost this poem. But I always intended it for the lovely shire of Shire of Rokeclif, Northshield, in La Crosse. Much love to that fair place. For many long year the Pheonix has grown And watched o’er the people here Alas in the fading summer For then, the Phoenix must die. He has exploded with wings And guarded the shire, Full of love for the people below, Alas that he must die. His cries can be heard in the heartbeat of the people, On the Fierce wings of Roacklif’s song People he loves, and people he guards For the will that he holds, but now he builds his pire. When at last he lays down his head The summer is at end, And people gather in the Hall, He sheds a tear as he vanishes in the ash and fire. But anon, here he comes In vibrant light! Rekindled by the beacons of flame. And that’s how the Phoenix lives! A toast to the people of the Phoenix, For his gift was the Autumn Rose, For the day that he rose from the ashes— He cried tears from whi...
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