The Art Of The Lathe Poem Rhyme Scheme

Recent Interactions*

This poem was read 5 times,

This poem was added to the favorite list by 0 members,

This poem was voted by 0 members.

(* Interactions only in the last 7 days)

New Poems

Wonderful Women
by Umaru Kanneh Boima
Freedom To Scratch In Peace
by Olute Aete
Happy New Year
by Felix Menda
Human Beings
by Dana Graslie
Lust
by Wisdom Greatness
An Isolated Tree's Song
by Sayeed Abubakar
A Strange Boy
by Sayeed Abubakar
O Soil
by Sayeed Abubakar
No War, No War-monger
by Sayeed Abubakar
Night's Town
by Sayeed Abubakar

Popular Poets

1. Emily Dickinson(2414 poems)
2. Madison Julius Cawein(1231 poems)
3. Ella Wheeler Wilcox(1136 poems)
4. William Wordsworth(1016 poems)
5. Robert Burns(986 poems)
6. Edgar Albert Guest(945 poems)
7. Thomas Moore(849 poems)
8. Robert Service(831 poems)

Leonardo imagined the first one	A
The next was a pole lathe with a drive cord	B
illustrated in Plumier's L'art de tourner en perfection	A
Then Ramsden Vauconson the great Maudslay	C
his student Roberts Fox Clement Whitworth	D
	-
The long line of machinists to my left	E
lean into their work ungloved hands adjusting the calipers	F
tapping the bit lightly with their fingertips	G
Each man withdraws into his house of work	H
the rough cut shearing of iron by tempered steel	C
blue black threads lifting like locks of hair	I
then breaking over bevel and ridge	J
Oil and water splash over the whitening bit hissing	K
The lathe on night shift moonlight silvering the bed ways	L
	-
The old man I apprenticed with Roy Garcia	M
in silk shirt khakis and Florsheims Cautious	N
almost delicate explanations and slow	C
shapely hand movements Craft by repetition	A
Haig and Haig behind the tool chest	O
	-
In Diderot's Encyclopaedia an engraving	K
of a small machine shop forge and bellows in back	P
in the foreground a mandrel lathe turned by a boy	Q
It is late afternoon and the copper light leaking in	R
from the street side of the shop just catches	S
his elbow calf shoe Taverns begin to crowd	T
with workmen curling over their tankards	S
still hearing in the rattle of carriages over cobblestone	U
the steady tap of the treadle	C
the gasp and heave of the bellows	S
	-
The boy leaves the shop cringing into the light	V
and digs the grime from his fingernails blue	C
from bruises Walking home he hears a clavier	I
Couperin maybe a Bach toccata from a window overhead	W
Music he thinks the beautiful	C
Tavern doors open Voices Grab and hustle of the street	X
Cart wheels The small room of his life The darkening sky	Y
	-
I listen to the clunk and slide of the milling machine	Z
Maudsley's art of clarity and precision sculpture of poppet	X
saddle jack screw pawl cone pulley	C
the fit and mesh of gears tooth in groove like interlaced fingers	S
I think of Mozart folding and unfolding his napkin	R
as the notes sound in his head The new machinist sings Patsy Cline	A2
I Fall to Pieces Sparrows bicker overhead	X
Screed of the grinder the bandsaw's groan and wail	C
	-
In his boredom the boy in Diderot	X
studies again through the shop's open door	I
the buttresses of Suger's cathedral	C
and imagines the young Leonardo in his apprenticeship	B2
staring through the window at Brunelleschi's dome	C2
solid yet miraculous a resurrected body floating above the city	X
	-
Outside a cowbird cries flapping up from the pipe rack	P
the ruffling of wings like a quilt flung over a bed	X
Snow settles on the tops of cans black rings in a white field	X
The stock cut clean gleams under lamplight	X
After work I wade back through the silence of the shop	D2
the lathes shut down inert like enormous animals in hibernation	A
red oil rags lying limp on the shoulders	S
of machines dust motes still climbing shafts	S
of dawn light hook and hoist chain lying desultory	X
as an old drunk collapsed outside a bar	I
barn sparrows pecking on the shores of oil puddles	S
emptiness wholeness a cave a cathedral	C
	-
As morning light washes the walls of Florence	S
the boy Leonardo mixes paints in Verrocchio's shop	D2
and watches the new apprentice muddle	C
the simple task of the Madonna's shawl	C
Leonardo whistles a canzone and imagines	S
a lathe the spindle bit and treadle the gleam of brass	S

B H Fairchild

The Art Of The Lathe Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Write your comment about The Art Of The Lathe poem by B H Fairchild

Recent Interactions*

New Poems

Popular Poets