Monday, March 7, 2011

Self-Portrait #1

This is the first draft of a poem I wrote a few hours ago. I haven't been posting to this blog very much in the past few months, school has been keeping me fairly preoccupied. However, I've been exercising my pen, if you will, a lot recently and plan to keep you posted with all of my practice, even if it isn't that great. With that said, here's a poem about growing up, something I've had to do a lot of lately.

Self-Portrait #1
The smooth cool steel of the razor
kisses the thistle slowly taking
my white cheek.

I watch the oscillating motion of
my wrist and note the bare patches
where once was bristle, in the mirror
a portrait of a weary young man

carefully swinging his scythe
exposing the hidden earth beneath,
clearing away the onset of old age
to bask in the youthful sun.

'Til the next morning when the sun rises anew
to reveal the futility of all prior labor;
barbasol in hand, still an old man.

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