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Rustic Shows
Gatherings and
Art Shows
that are rustic friendly
Lake Home Shows
The Berkshires Arts Festival
Ski Butternut
Great Barrington, MA
July 4, 5, 6
Lakeside Living Expo
on
Lake Winnipesaukee
in New Hampshire
Books
Making Gypsy Willow Furniture by Bim Willow®
(paper back)
Books by
Dan Mack
So You Want to be a Rustic Furniture Maker?
Tips of the Trade by
Bim Willow®
a free E-book
Groups
Twig Furniture Group
Canadian Rustic Furniture Group
Workshops
Do you teach?
David Wedge poems
To Be Read By Every
Boy & Girl Of 12
Liberty, great for poem
it rhymes with free.
Guaranteed by the constitution,
and, after mindful deliberation
amended and sanctified by the
the Town Council, Committee.
But stands in evidence
between my God and me
my freedom qualified only,
by my willingness to be.
Shakespeare said it well
(recall “To be or not to be”).
But then he didn’t serve
on the Town Council, Committee.
In jail behind the bars
or within the one at large.
I choose neither
and in crime I do commit.
Not caught
thought they suspect,
the imprisoned souls chafe
at the chains of their convention,
but to find relief
in binding me.
Surely by the powers
of the Town Council, Committee
can be found an ordinance,
justified to direct me.
But by flight or wit,
not by decree.
Not by rule of the Town Council,
am I free.
There is a skill of course,
once you understand.
How much a person you are
(running at large)
self empowered within,
not from without.
It’s a lie you’ve been told,
bold face by all that know.
At the blackboard,
from the pulpit,
and in ordinance
from the Town Council,
Committee.
That your God-Material-Identity,
come from the community.
Taught, learned and preached
at the knee of society.
“The view”, a consensus reality,
now - holy ordinance,
pastored,
by the Town Council,
Committee.
They fooled you!
Wake up and see,
PROSPERITY.
Their’s is the rule
of the Town Council, Committee
And subjugation to save their souls.
We must all belong to the fold.
Suffer we as suspect
the imagined threat
in fantasies,
imagined, realities.
Brings comfort to a barren soul
in a world filled with gold,
beneath the mystery.
Least there be no suspect
“The Truth” is a truth and relative
to the presupposition,
BELIEVED!, conditioned reality.
Of which there is more than one
I respectfully wish
we could agree.
And therein, coexist in freedom.
Free as in poetry - rhymes with
Liberty.
B 2003 David Wedge
“Lions I have Known”
Ah, my Circus days
filled with hope
and energy.
Did I die a
thousand deaths
for thee.
To fly in the light
chest swelled,
breath the lion’s roar.
Compliment *
I am once more.
In a mask of grease paint,
or violet sequined tights
upon the high wire,
or in the steel arena be.
And walk the earth
of sawdust,
free.
But fate
has it’s decree.
To crush the heart of
those
who would be.
She,
like a woman scorned
and a tiger I’ve known,
will plot your demise
behind cunning eyes.
A scared body
I did not mind,
but it tore at my soul
and cast me in poverty.
The anguish I felt
dreams as twisted knots,
wrench at your gut,
empty tomorrows
that will not be . . .
Visions in light
violet rays,
passion realized.
Presented to thee
under canvas
and moonlight
in rings of three.
But I have my triumpth.
You shall not rob me,
of my trial and tread
upon the edge.
I have my my days etched
in mortal flesh,
the pain and sweat
and nights of no rest.
And burns in my soul
for all eternity.
The dreams of lions
I, have known
and conquered,
not them
but me.
The women be damned
I am
me.
* a gestered bow to the audience
as a sign of presentation.
B 2003 David Wedge
Sojourn
>From the clatter of the day I left
'I am'
sprawled on the couch
and moved my eyes from looking out
to looking in.
In my minds eye
laid back on a bed of pine needles
spread across
the soft forest floor.
I sink in,
deeply in,
I merge.
Floating now through
and beneath
into the dark void
and into no thing.
There I stand
on the ground of my presence
as Light comes.
The Universe of all universes
is revealed
in my presence
and
the countless universes
began to unfold.
Closer now,
Galaxies,
Nebulas,
star clusters
and on toward the edge
a planet looms.
The blue one.
It's oceans in view,
land masses appear
and the screams and tears
of a 6.3 billion humans
echo
deep in the canyon,
of my
human mind ears.
The clatter returns.
The trauma/drama illusion theater
life lesson university and school of hard knocks
on the other side of the veil
is open for business.
Will I ever pass this grade.
Jodie, age 12
Story by David Wedge
B 2003 David Wedge
Award Winning
2 Boys Tumble In The Grass
Two boys tumble in the grass
J D plays the bones
as James fiddles
and Roberta
picks out notes,
from somewhere past.
A white haired lady
shakes her head to time,
as I do mine.
As we sit upon
a green lawn.
Two boys tumble in the grass.
Between puffs
I scribble these rambling
notes,
“The Night Of The
Johnstown Flood” plays.
The haunting sound
hangs in the background,
as I wonder where I’ve been
courses through my brain.
Coming back
to haunt me
again.
Did I miss a day
to tumble in the grass.
Where did I forget to play?
Dusty light, twilight
across the field
I view.
The mountains,
silhouettes
in a fading sky of blue.
Was it there
lost and then,
in a place I haven’t been.
At 8 or 9,
more than 10.
“ . . . you can’t afford my
company”
she said to me.
It was there I grew
and discovered my poverty.
And left behind
the fields of grass
and play.
Time to sit upon a bale of hay.
And in the life
of all my days
working for pay.
In my struggle to buy
the price was too high.
It cost me my youth
and moments
in the twilight, reverie.
I should keep better company,
than a heart for sale
don’t you see.
Think I’ll walk
a mountainside
my youth gone
I will not find.
But for a moment now . . .
will not die.
I’ll return here
to sit at the side,
of J D and company,
and shake my head to
a melody.
Its not money
that buys poverty
but life
in a damn material
society.
Or cohabitate or mate
with a heart for sale.
The price was too high
don’t you see.
One should keep
better company.
B 2003 David Wedge