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Submitted by weirdelf on 10 June 2007 - 5:56am.| Updated 29 June 2008 - 3:47am.
Style / Type:
freeform
He strips away the old
unlike an onion,
each layer was a story
stories of lives, loves and deaths
they tantalise
the defects of character
he fixes are an argument between
beauty is there
was there
until he erases the walls memories
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
I have completely lost the original poem. I hope this works. I was very new on the site and threw out too many words. We are here to learn, but not lose ourselves.
(7 votes)

Will post the original
Also love by the way I love cummings, do you like Dylan Thomas? “In My Craft or Sullen Art” is the poets poem.
"based on the feedback"
Ouch.
I really like the other version more.
All is there
well I have come here
to visit
and have found this
poem
I wonder what the original was
like with the “big words”
Great Poem Weirdelf
i used to paint local peoples
houses as a younger man
and teen
not only would he houses garages
sheds cottages tell stories
but the old time owners too
man, that what about a year ago
It was one time I should not have changed my poetry,
remember Joe?
I dumbed it down for him and don’t even remember the original, should have kept it
cheers,
Jess
Jees
Smiles:)
Barbara
This was really great I enjoyed watching the peels of paint roll off like the stories of lives, love and death. Beautiful images.
I have one suggestion at the end
“he fixes are an argument between
beauty is there
was there”
something seems to be missing feel certain you will make it work
Other than this, it is one of you finer pieces.
The imperfection....
is what appeals. This is, my favorite of yours, ever.
Nothing is perfect, and anything that appeared so, would give life to my suspicion.
I think the loss of the original, is indeed the gain of this great write.
Your friend,
Mark
The Housepainter
Jess there is true beauty in this one. I absolutely love it!
thank you, Barbara, Mark, Janice,
poetry is so bloody weird. Who likes one thing for some set of reasons may hate the same thing for the same reasons on another day. We can only admit our humanity and give of our truth as best we can.
cheers,
Jess