Drawing Of The Day Poem by GRANT FRASER

An excuse to run away
has never presented
itself...

and I am stuck with
with the real,

an inferior appointment
refined,

for everyday I encounter
more and more of the same,

the sad whimsical moments
are like old long
playing records,
and I have to keep turning
them over and over...

the damage is everywhere
and yet nowhere,
people tick and talk,
then walk away,
either happy,
nowhere,
or in shock...

this is living!

then the down and out's
start arguing outside
Graham's frame shop,
nothing new,

then disappear
into Roops
Bargain store,
for more alcohol,

I could use one myself!
cause the world looks
blue or green or grey
maybe?

there are all kinds
of shades and colours,
some shine brightly
so much I cannot
see them for what they are,

a motivational force,
tell me to steer clear
and score out other
little details of the
picture,

and I try
to write it,

- big deal!

it's the only way,
but not the only
picture,
and with very
thick crayons...

but all the
representations
will probably never
come to light,

and for me returning
to the beginning,
every time,
has grown easier...

life plays,
I don't change
or escape either,
and bear
all the hall marks,
of the observer,

trying to draw
what it is,
that keeps
the self together...