A Carpenter of a Different Kind

The novelty of a girl with a fresh pressed uniform.

The novelty of a man whose passion drove him to an old broken down school.

Everything about this new hero screamed color and life.

Yet as life dragged him to such a dull place, I couldn’t help but notice that he placed the colors of joy and wonder on everyone he met.

Though the sun shone brightly outside;  his classroom was dark.

How could this place where I found light be of this shade?

After all the oxford commas and grammar

a moment came in which Mr. L, the man of vibrant colors, cried for joy

“Pen to the paper!”

Rolling eyes overcame the room.

I did it too.


Yes, I had viciously swallowed words down my throat,

but never did I think I would pour out my own.

Never had I ever found writing to be magical

until I began.

The horrid smell invaded his room

Yet it could not mask the smell of the genius minds at work.

The smell of love for this new adventure sprung from my pores

Almost as if it had sat heavy there all the years before,

All the years when I was drowning with no escape.

Finally, with faint nods  and passing glances both Mr. L and I knew I could breath

No longer was I sinking in the never ending abyss of the world’s grasp

The pen gave me my wings.


Though the words were never spoken

His eyes glimmered with utter love of someone who had finally found life’s greatest gifts.

Words became like new shoes desperate to be worn.

I became a carpenter.

Mr. L gave me so many tools

my whole body begged to use them all.

Sometimes he’d freeze, wonderstruck at what I could create.

This magical man was once as young as me

Discovering the very same joy.

I can only imagine the thrill he must have felt.


In the end of the whole process given the name Writing,

It was so much more than that,

I couldn’t help but sweat as the paper would be handed in.

“Final! Final!” the paper would shout.

There is no doubt,

It can no longer be mine.

I’ve given it to you

Whom I Trust.

This poem is about: 


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