The New Portrait


portrait

I’ve not taken that many walks this year so when my first walk post the equinox finished I was glad to sit and have my photo taken. This one, I see, reflects a lot I know about me. The lines, the wrinkles, the creases.  I welcome these. There was a time way back when I never thought I’d see them in fact I’d welcome not seeing them. But they’re here and so am I so hurrah.

The general view is that of my cheeky chappie coming out. I should have said that first.  There is pleasure here even if the smile is somewhat false and put on for the snapper. I welcome pleasure. There are laughter lines to go with the lived lines. A hahaho distracts from the brow. I don’t have to think about this. I don’t have to study, consider, perplex or confound myself with thoughts or disallowed feelings. The laughter comes first. It comes foremost. It is out there regardless of if i want it there or not.

My Catweazle is present too. People know and mock me for being bedraggled. I never let that worry me. I’m too lazy to shave and too indifferent to go and cut my hair. Someone said to me the other day…. ooh you’re growing a beard…. i’ve never grown a beard. Never been able to but sometimes it appears as if i did. I think of Pottsie from time to time due to a hair growth influence. Growing up we would have bets. I’ll sleep with a woman before oy do. I’ll grow a beard before you do. You might hit me now but you’re going to hurt a lot more than I do. That kind of thing. Sometimes i think i’ll send Pottsie phots of my different non beards. I guess my best effort was a muslim growth that I pushed for during my anti war years. That one got long enough to wear glasses.

And then there’s my style of dress. Its that time of year when lads are throwing off the winter cloths and I’m still more or less mostly in them taking forward my mother’s oath to cast not a clout until the merry month of may is out.The vest, the jumper, the big heavy coat. These are signs of mine and the signs need to point you to the eyes and the yes…. in the eyes, my supposedly beautiful baby blue eyes I spy the ill health that has weighed me down this year and the lines that they lend to my pen and the rhymes that are yet to be written.

Everything points to life going on. I’m glad to here even though the cheeky chappie isn’t always present.

Other words based on this time on Disability Arts Online

Other portraits taken this day on earth on facebook

 

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