I can’t get over how endearing they are.
Sturdy, underneath me,
at the times when changes were being made.
When the walls were changing color,
when mistakes and broken boards
were being fixed,
when life was covered in dust and chaos
the ladder stood solid underneath me.
Mixed with the odd creative feeling
Of painting, even though painting white walls
Requires no creativity at all,
Makes me regard it as a friend
Who always wants to do something together.
Even if its just being propped up against the house
And I stand on the topmost sticker that says
“Not a step”
just to feel the breeze sway me gently.
Day 9 - Artists do self-portraits all the time to gain artistic perspective about the human face. Poets are word artsits, so write a poem about yourself.
The woman-girl poses like a Vermeer
Staring out the window,
Not knowing her hooked nose and
Sharp cheek bones make her look
Like the witch from Narnia.
Her regal head drops on her hand
Forgetting all proper posture
While imagining things outside.
Her other hand is paused on the keyboard
That she’s supposed to be typing on.
Blonde hair that could be full
If she brushed it flows around her shoulders
A little scraggly.
With shrewd features and a little mirth in the eyes
No one knows what to make of her
Except that she’s there.