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I Forge Iron

I Like to Sit in My Shop


J W Bennett

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Just a few thoughts about "Why I sit in my shop"

I like to sit in my shop.
I have a favorite chair that I like to sit in when I sit in my shop.
Sometimes I sit in my shop early in the morning and think of the day ahead.
Sometimes I sit in my shop at the end of the day and look at the results of the day and what tomorrow

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It reads like a children's book for adults. What a wonderful inspiration you followed. It makes me want to come over and sit in your shop.

I feel very much the same way, and I've only had my current shop for 8 years.

I'll bet, if I (or someone) was to draw pictures to go with your poem, I bet you would find a publisher interested. I would change the title a bit and call it "The Blacksmith Who Sat Down" with a subtitle of "Why I like to sit in my shop". Other than that I wouldn't change a word. I can picture the drawings in my head.

In any case, I really enjoyed it.

Christopher

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JWB, one of the best "poems" I have ever read. Like Chris, I think you should get it published. Shoot, if nothing else, send it to ABANA and have them distribute to all of the affiliates. When I get off work today I'm headed straight to my shop and sit and think and ponder and remember and.... Thank you.

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Thanks for the kind words, as I said I'm not sure why I wrote it I just felt like putting my thoughts down. It belongs to IFORGEIRON now and Glenn can use it as he see's fit. But once again thanks for the kind words

I like to sit in my shop
I've sat in my shop and watched the sun rise through the big open doors
I've sat in my shop and watched the shadows grow long toward the end of the day
I've sat in my shop and looked out those doors-I've seen Orion the Hunter, Lupus the Hare, Cygnus the swan,Bootes and Ursa major and Minor....I can't forget the bears.
I've sat in my shop and looked out those doors and watched the colors change with the seasons.
I have sat in my shop and and looked out those doors and been in awe of what I've seen
I like to sit in my shop and look out of those big doors

JWB

I left that one out because I thought it made it to long
Once again Thanks

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Why not take her to your shop and after reading it to her, explain why you like to sit in YOUR shop. Tell her of the memories your shop holds for you. THEN make some memories she can tell her children.

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I wanted to share it with all of you and I am humbled that you wish to share it with others. Please do! I think it would be nice to hear from those of you who "Like to sit in your shop too." and tell us why. We all have more in common than just Iron and fire.

John

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Why not take her to your shop and after reading it to her, explain why you like to sit in YOUR shop. Tell her of the memories your shop holds for you. THEN make some memories she can tell her children.

I sure wish I could, but I no longer have a shop. Its a sad story, maybe I'll get into it sometime.
Joseff
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Depending upon her age, a grandfathers knee works. Use photos from the IFI Gallery or other places as visual aids. May want to use a tape recorder and archive the conversation for the future.

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John,
I don't have "much" of a shop, but man that really strikes a deep chord. You hear stories from older folks and from reading about how all the young boys in a town would "hang out" at the blacksmith's shop. I think your poem kind of illuminates why. Wonder how many fewer "troubled teens" we'd have nowdays if some of them had a blacksmith's shop to "sit in"... Thanks a ton for sharing that one.

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JWB,
Your poem really is something special, thank you. I went back and read it three different times before I wrote this note and for me each time it seemed to sink in deeper and have a greater effect.
To me exemplifies and ties together a very happy and fulfilling past, present and Future beautifully. If more folks could spend time sitting (reflecting/enjoying) in a shop, the world would surely be a nicer place.
Just by sharing you made all of our worlds a little nicer.
Thank You Again,
Tim

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Thank you JW for that poem. Reading it really touched me deeply. It took me back to all the hours sitting in my grandfather's shop with him. I learned a lot about work and life in general in that old shop. For a few moments it was like he was still here. Thanks again.

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I like to sit in my shop too.

Wrote this one a long time ago.


(Add title here) Can't remember doesn't matter

Two bucks it was for this old chair
condition not good, hell not even fair

It took some glue, some bolts, some strap
of iron to mend where the cracks overlap

It's rockin' real easy, on reinforced boughs
it ain't for sale, it fits me now


Unfortunately I also liked to take it to the state fair and sit in it in that shop too. Blew out one year on the way home.

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JW,
Now that my fingers are actually hitting the right keys, I read your poem to my wife and, after a few minutes (she really reflects on things at times) she said that your poem was really good. She has always been the artful one between the two of us, and she said that your poem managed to paint beautiful watercolors in her mind's eye and said to thank you for it.

Thank you

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I have several hot wheels cars the grandkids left on the floor long ago, now they lie in the top lid of the tool box on the rolling bench. They have long since forgotten them. One day they
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  • 7 months later...

It is wonderful and reminds me of a song that brings tears to my eyes every time I hear it.



Who Will Watch The Home Place




Leaves are falling and turning to showers of gold
As the postman climbs up our long hill
And there's sympathy written all over his face
As he hands me a couple more bills

Who will watch the home place
Who will tend my hearts dear space
Who will fill my empty place
When I am gone from here

There's a lovely green nook by a clear-running stream
It was my place when I was quite small
And it's creatures and sounds could soothe my worst pains
But today they don't ease me at all

In my grandfather's shed there are hundreds of tools
I know them by feel and by name
And like parts of my body they've patched this old place
When I move them they won't be the same

Now I wander around touching each blessed thing
The chimney the tables the trees
And my memories swirl 'round me like birds on the wing
When I leave here oh who will I be



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