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Self Portraits You Don't Look At

Artists depict so many images of themselves Staring for hours into their own eyes The free model, always available Like poets ripping pieces away Exposing bare flesh, beating hearts Quietly observing, making notes For that third person perspective I'm all layers of flesh in tact right now All the good poetic material weighing heavy I dare not tempt it out It's the tear stained pages Of a person I'm scared I could be It's all blurry beyond there I see the breaking down of the pitiful figure So I don't do it But I'm building layer upon layer of coping Each flawed enough to break without notice Right now I'm swallowing down feeling anything Or so I think I mean I'm still funny and interesting I can't lose witty repartee, no no There's got to be something to offset the rest Well, this didn't help Maybe that's why artists paint again and again

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Hilda Greenhough

Date: 2/15/2024 11:36:00 AM

This is a "come home" poem that peels layers until the ending. Nicely written

Di11y Da11y
Date: 2/15/2024 2:41:00 PM

Thank you Hilda, appreciated x

Vickey Rhymer

Date: 2/14/2024 8:47:00 PM

Rome wasn't built in a day.Keep building.The results are cumulative .If it needs exposed to light and air ?,throw back the drapes ,open the windows.Let lifes breath rush into it's place as nature really does hate a vacuum.Think no vacancy ! No thank you filled to the brim. No room for that which no longer serves me .One day you won't believe what your little writing hands have wrought .

Di11y Da11y
Date: 2/15/2024 2:40:00 PM

You're a star Vickey :) hopefully there will be a point of contentment x

David Kavanagh

Date: 2/14/2024 1:53:00 PM

This really is some self portrait into the (your) minds eye, such complexity it almost sounds dangerous to think so much, but hey I do too, I’m actually quite comfortable contemplating my own mortality, (sometimes), a lot of toing and froing going on in this one, second guessing yourself, the blurry part always seems to be one step ahead of us, even when we catch up with it, I mean what would it be like to know everything, (don’t answer that question) even though it’s relevant to your poem, exceptionally profound as always, cheers David

Di11y Da11y
Date: 2/15/2024 2:39:00 PM

I can never quite figure out if poetry is therapy or not. It's a need once you get past a certain point. I can't believe I once wasn't sure if I was a poet - seems laughable now. It's so much a part of me and a place to channel the thinking! Thanks David, I always appreciate your comments