In his footsteps

You just hope you get to follow Rembrandt, would settle for Monet, and fear Jackson Pollock.

Yeah the poem was written with a good surveyor in mind.

I don't remember when or why I wrote it. I just found it on my computer. I'm not even sure if I was finished with it yet.

thanks Bill That is funny

or Dali or Hieronymus Bosch.

Maybe Bosch would be interesting.

John

It is finished.
don't touch it!

Well done.

Bosch would be the ultimate bad one, but I figure more people recognize Pollock's name. Maybe it should be M.C. Escher?

I sometimes think

that highway surveyors and engineers had Salvador Dali in mind when they do design.

I sometimes think

You want a spiral curve?

DOT Highways - Hawaii

I sometimes think

.

I sometimes think

.

> John
>
> It is finished.
> don't touch it!
>
> Well done.

I concur!! It's perfect!! :good: :love:

I sometimes think

> that highway surveyors and engineers had Salvador Dali in mind when they do design.

Kris,

When I first went to California, my wife made the remark that some of the freeway interchanges seem to have been designed by an engineer going the male version of menopause.

Upon reflection, she may have been correct.

SJ

Pretty good John

Here is one I did you might want to reflect on.

It has been posted before, approximately 10 years ago.

Quite a few will miss some of the allegories that don't have anything to do with surveying.

Sand Hills Surveyor

This is the story of a man I well knew,
An Artist, a Poet and a Surveyor too.
Born on a sand hill in Thirty-one,
When he Died he seemed to have just begun.

He was many things both bad and good, lead and gold.
There was no other copy cast from his mold.
Always a dreamer and never a planner,
The purveyor of a quite engaging manner.

When still a quite young man, he left those hills of sand
And set out to make his mark upon the land.
Of trials and tribulations he knew plenty,
Many coming before he was twenty.

From Montana to Mexico did he roam,
But only those hills of sand did he call home.
Living life and all the while
Gathering stories he would tell to beguile.

Of the many things at which he tried his hand,
He chose to be a surveyor of the land.
From East to West and North to South, his line ran true
And he placed his corner stones for me and you.

Artist and poet did he also come to be,
For free of Spirit was he.
He made those marks upon the land,
With transit, tape and pen in hand.

Then he did come home,
To settle and cease to roam
To raise a family in those hills of sand,
Earning their way as a surveyor of land.

Later the Square and Compasses he did wear,
And of Eagles he had a pair.
Then when the Master clasped his hand,
We laid him ‘neath the sod of those hills of sand.

In many ways, as much as I can,
I follow the footsteps of this man.
The Square and Compasses I do wear,
And of Eagles I have a pair.

From Montana to Mexico I did roam,
But only these sand hills do I call home.
Living my life all the while,
And learning stories to tell to beguile.

Now I am a Surveyor, an Artist and a Poet too,
From East to West and North to South, my lines run true.
I make my marks upon the land,
And place my corner stones in the sand.

This man of whom I speak,
Who taught me ever to seek,
That which is right and brave and bold,
By telling me stories of days of old.

This man who prayed to God on bended knee,
Who was the father of three.
Was my father, by whose hand,
I became a sand hills surveyor of land.

Stephen Johnson
December 24, 1995

> Now I am a Surveyor, an Artist and a Poet too,
> From East to West and North to South, my lines run true.
> I make my marks upon the land,
> And place my corner stones in the sand.

> Stephen Johnson
> December 24, 1995

You said it perfectly right there what I was going to say. 🙂

rhyme of the ancient cartographer

You guys are too good with this poetry stuff 🙂

I stumbled upon this by somebody named Lyman D. Lynn a number of years ago...

Rime of the Ancient Cartographer:

"Each day I sit with pen in hand,
With compass, ink, and blotting sand,
With straight-edge ruler and divider,
triangle, T-square, and protractor.

I draw and dream, and dream and draw
The shores and hills of Panama;
The coasts of Malabar and Goa,
Cipango, Thai, or New Angola.

I draw not what mine eyes hath seen,
Nor prompted by an inner dream.
I put down what Balboa saw;
Alas for me! I only draw.

The geographer needs must travel ever,
The cartographer never."