The Children's Art Easel

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It has stood in the middle of a living room

in two of our homes.  Greeting me each morning

with a cup of murky paint water; offering

a stained brush stir stick, but in all  

these years I am yet to imbibe. 

 

At its side it carries 2 neon green plastic smocks.

Protectors of hand-me-down clothing and

enduring war garb of may water color battles.

A white board back covered in streaks and drips

offers not a story, but rather an epitaph

for the many trees, rectangle homes, and

crooked smiley faces that now rest next to  

bad poetry in the bottom of a blue recycling bin.

 

This great storyteller stands with 4 feet

firmly on the carpet, offering as sense

of hospitality lost to most restaurants.

Providing a willingness to take egg

to the face for a cause of adventure,

kitty cats, one armed daddy drawings, and

the greatness of an ill constructed rainbow.

 

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Reviews

[Beccy]

Such a beautiful poem; I found love etched in every line.

I have kept almost every painting and drawing that Charlie has created. They are in several folders and I leaf through them from time to time and there are many such as you describe in this quite lovely poem.

Beccy.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

with the pandemic we have to create our own restaurants at home...
sans masks...we can just be ourselves and write bad poetry and make bad drawings...and be thrilled with both...
we are the only critics, after all.
j.