(An exercise in Poet’s Companion: Write a poem about your room.)
These walls have pores:
They wear tears here,
Cracks there,
Pokes everywhere–
They’re so worn!
These walls have pores:
Cobwebs cover them in the corners,
But in the vast stretch during summer;
Ants march like obedient prisoners–
Those patriots of holes!
These walls have pores:
That if my room gets rate
Based on smoothness–
This is starless!
Perhaps zero is the score.
But though the pores in these walls
Are more than beehives or acnes can show,
My room is still a room
And it doesn’t need Aveeno nor Oxy–
That I’m sure!
Coz I’m here
Scribbling.
Notwithstanding the pores
In the walls,
I’m still writing my very all.
I like the way you view life Aina ~ from a very creative point of view, something that enriches your life and those around you 🙂 Making any room, your own.
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You’re such generous fellow, Randall—thank you! You’re an inspiration!
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