THE PAINT KETTLE

The paint kettle streaked for a hundred years

had been passed down to me

down the male line the last of three

generations

of joy  hope  grief  tears streaked

oil based and water based

a rainbow of life's moments

running down, 

solidified like time past.

 

Another door to paint

the old old story, but where will it end?

When will the paint run out, life drying up

no more streaks,

      and brushes in jars with rigor mortis.

◄ THE WAY IT'S GONNA BE

INDUSTRIAL WASTELAND ►

Comments

Robert Mann

Sat 11th Jun 2016 11:07

Ray - in this 'disposable' age the analogy of such a mundane object being passed down through generations is probably unique. Well thought through piece this. I like it a lot.
Rob

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raypool

Wed 8th Jun 2016 22:41

A sobering thought indeed Harry. Live each day with or without the kettle on.

Ray

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Harry O'Neill

Wed 8th Jun 2016 21:02

Ray,
In answer to the question:

If you`re anywhere near my age, don`t enter into any long term arrangements

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