reverie

Thirty-one years of a workshopcomes down to boxes labeledby what he could still lift.

The good chisels. The bad ones, kept anyway.A coffee can of screws sorted by nothinghe ever explained to anyone.

I am not sentimental about tools.I am sentimental about the handthat knew, without looking, which drawer.

We drove it all to the shop down the roadand let a stranger tell us what it was worth,which is not a questioneither of us wanted answered.

About free versePoetry without a set rhyme scheme or regular meter, shaped by the poet.

Free verse has no fixed rhyme scheme or regular meter, so there is no rule to check it against. That does not mean it lacks craft. The poet chooses where lines break, how long they run, and what repeats, and those choices shape it.

Listen for Where each line ends, and how that break changes the way you hear it.

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Soren Vance

@soren

Writes when something's finally over, not before.

11 poems · 7 readings received · 16 written · 3 followers

Readings (1)

Saoirse Doyle27 September 2026
"the hand that knew, without looking, which drawer." that's the elegy. everything else is the boxes. this is the one i'll keep.

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Matched by shared theme or form. Where two match equally, the one still waiting for a first reading comes first.