soft grumbles

This poem is for our lesson called The All Accepting Eye. To quote our moderator and teacher, Gwen:

Often something that is most memorable is not necessarily one of exceptional beauty, but one with a bit of ‘character’-- perhaps a spectacularly colored sunset that’s enhanced even more by the streak of gray cloud off to the side, or perhaps a flaw or other type of substance in a rock – for example the ‘flame’ in an opal. Might something unique or interesting be found in the scrapings from a dinner plate, or in a cigarette butt lying in the gutter

forty-nine years have taken its toll.
Seems like I have learned
nothing throughout the years.
My wife has to call a master
for the simplest carpentry work,
shorted electric wires or plumbing leaks.

I know I am good at something…

My rusty car is best described
as something that runs on four wheels
and nothing more. My house
small as a tin can filled with sardines
bereft of a garden where I can rest
read a book or play my guitar.

And yet, I know I have something…

My blood sweetened thick
having indulged on sugar and fat,
stones on my kidney had to be shocked
three times have I gone for treatment
and I still want my food to be salty.
Body plump, shoulders droop
belly’s big and my knees are weak.

I know I’m not much but there's gotta be something…

I should not wallow in sadness
and give in to the doldrums in my heart
for I have been blessed with other things:
a contagious smile, nimble fingers
with a guitar and my brush. All these
sufficient to feed my children
and give them a hearty laugh.