Out of the washbowl
I scoop up,
my distorted face
© Sumitaku Kenshin (1961-1987)
Out of the washbowl
I scoop up,
my distorted face
crow’s feet mock me
holding vigil no more
© Tournesol ’15
Poetry ~ Waka
Out of the washbowl
I scoop up,
my distorted face
© Sumitaku Kenshin (1961-1987)
Out of the washbowl
I scoop up,
my distorted face
crow’s feet mock me
holding vigil no more
© Tournesol ’15
great image!
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Thank you!
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ah … those reflections, the things they show us. Nice completion.
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Thanks, cara. I figured if I slip in a “crow” in there, it may not feel so dark 🙂
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But crows are pretty dark critters from the Italian point of view …
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It was my personal reflection of darkness too. When I had a feeling years go to go visit with my dying step-dad years ago, a crow smashed into my windshield…for us, it means there will be a death…he died that night.
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Exactly .. crows for us are omens of death … I think it has to do with past history … wars, plagues etc. and the crow is a scavenger …
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Those little wrinkles around the eyes are annoying! Would that there were a way to wash them away! (Forget about Botox!)
My Tan Renga
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Nah, it give character! I remember when I was about 10, I was trying to practice tightening my face muscles to hide my worry lines on my forehead. I tell my young colleagues (average ag is 25) I earned every line…smiling too much, and worrying for loved one.
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Somehow those morning moments are when age creep up and grin in our face.
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Yes, grin turns into a silent mocking chortle 🙂
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Those pesky crows feet – we can never escape them!
I enjoyed this.
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well they do show one has lived:) Thanks for your visit, Mike!
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