Monday, August 15, 2011

Oh, the dreams of being real

There is nothing like the lately unpainted
canvas of a neglected room, needing
validation, self-esteem and a new coat
of paint. I carefully select the color chips,
debating between neutral and eclectic (eccentric?)
hues, then boldly commit to the paint being
tinted and mixed, and load my
cart with every painting gadget known to
the aspiring home artisan and race home,
gleefully rubbing palms together as I carefully
pry off the lid, fill the pan, coat the roller, and
commence coloring in the lines of my dream
with meticulous Tom Sawyerish dedication.
Afterwards, the gadgets gather together, forgotten,
velveteen dust slowly coating them,
in the corner of the garage, until
the next time something needs to be tinted
lovingly real.
(Posted for Mag 78, Magpie Tales, 8/14/11)


  1. the touch of the cans collecting dust until such a time as something needs to be colored real...very nice...

  2. Diva . . there is an error in your entry in the LinkyList. The "p" is missed out from your blogname so the click returns a "Blog Not Found" error. I guessed what was wrong. We Trells are smart like that!

    I like the poem at least as much as Brian above.
    I hope Willow can correct the mistake for you.

  3. I guessed my way out of trouble looking for your blog as did the commentator above.

    I much enjoyed the poem, and hope more readers find their way to it.

  4. Thanks for the heads-up, poets! I emailed Willow and posted a comment on Mag 78, pleading for help!

  5. Ahh!nice I can smell dust,color and life in your piece...Beautifully done:)


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