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Belated Self Portrait

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  • albiaicehouse
    I bet there aren t too many middle aged guys balancing on a stone cold ladder, its feet on frozen crusted concrete, its top leaning on the house s fascia lip
    Message 1 of 3 , Feb 6, 2011
      I bet there aren't too many
      middle aged guys
      balancing on a stone cold ladder,
      its feet
      on frozen crusted concrete,
      its top leaning on the house's
      fascia lip of ice,
      knicking, blow by blow,
      with an ice hammer,
      but more so struggling to
      sing a song in Irish,
      or Gaelic,
      if you prefer.
      My runner's legs
      are equal to the task.
      My gloved grippers
      are weaker than I remember
      when I was climbing
      the huge apple tree
      in the backyard of my youth.
      My skull,
      under my far receded hairline,
      under the pulled low maroon wool cap,
      is the least comfortable
      only a month from last month's concussion.
      Like a superstitious wanderer
      passing a graveyard,
      I avoid thinking of the slowness
      of my progress at this monumental task
      and the danger of a plummet,
      struggling to wrap my tonque
      around the formidable
      sounds.

      albi
      Copyright 2011
    • Wings081
      Hi Albi Get down from that ladder right now. We cannot aford to lose someone with your talent due to a drop in temperature. What are you doing up there anyway.
      Message 2 of 3 , Feb 6, 2011
        Hi Albi
        Get down from that ladder right now. We cannot aford to lose someone with your talent due to a drop in temperature.
        What are you doing up there anyway. Unless the roof is leaking, there's another day tomorrow and, who knows, the sun may be shining and completing the task for you.
        So be a good chap and rise no further than the first rung.

        Unless of course you wish to climb Jacob's ladder where: " the top of it reached to heaven and behold the angels of God ascending and descending it"

        As always
        Wings
      • jbram98
        I really liked this poem. Good poetry, I think, lies in pulling deep insights while performing mundane or unpleasant tasks. That is what this poem did; it
        Message 3 of 3 , Feb 6, 2011
          I really liked this poem. Good poetry, I think, lies in pulling deep insights while performing mundane or unpleasant tasks. That is what this poem did; it was kind of Bukowski-ian.

          --- In ticket2write@yahoogroups.com, albiaicehouse <no_reply@...> wrote:
          >
          > I bet there aren't too many
          > middle aged guys
          > balancing on a stone cold ladder,
          > its feet
          > on frozen crusted concrete,
          > its top leaning on the house's
          > fascia lip of ice,
          > knicking, blow by blow,
          > with an ice hammer,
          > but more so struggling to
          > sing a song in Irish,
          > or Gaelic,
          > if you prefer.
          > My runner's legs
          > are equal to the task.
          > My gloved grippers
          > are weaker than I remember
          > when I was climbing
          > the huge apple tree
          > in the backyard of my youth.
          > My skull,
          > under my far receded hairline,
          > under the pulled low maroon wool cap,
          > is the least comfortable
          > only a month from last month's concussion.
          > Like a superstitious wanderer
          > passing a graveyard,
          > I avoid thinking of the slowness
          > of my progress at this monumental task
          > and the danger of a plummet,
          > struggling to wrap my tonque
          > around the formidable
          > sounds.
          >
          > albi
          > Copyright 2011
          >
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