by Bobi Leutschaft Poitras
Not very cheerful…but I drew a picture 🙂
Crucifying Myself What is a door But a thing to walk through Or close on the world As I so often do I keep a pen And a bottle of gin Under my pillow Just in case it busts in I’ve written down In my journal of rust All the humans I know And the dogs that I trust I have kept track Of each stitch that I got And keep every scar In a little green pot Here by my side Lie my most cherished thoughts So cuddly and warm And all tangled in knots My well-laid plans Come to me in the night To sleep at my feet As I turn out the light All hope is pinned On a board in the hall It’s not very much So it’s written real small In the event that it all somehow fails I still have my crutch And this bucket of nails ©Bobi Leutschaft Poitras, February 2022
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A sad poem for sure but nicely done. Hopefully the poet is not this blue all the time.
Thanks, Milo. You know me – pretty cheerful in general… 🙂
I relate … it is real life. I have a physical crutch to help me hobble thru the day.
Real life, for sure. Thank you for reading!
Sometimes a smile is the only thing to ward off sadness
How strange it is that we find it easy
To give to
Yet not so easy to turn it inwards to
I use my art to ward off sadness – the more I put on paper and canvas, the less is left inside of me. And yes, easier to give than receive… Thanks for reading!