Saturday, January 27, 2018

Workhorse

Give me the weight; my back is strong.
I've done time in the traces, it's where I belong.
There is solace in knowing just what I am -
a workhorse plodding slow.
Plodding slow
and plodding home.

Look at my hands to see my true face.
They work wonders without waste.
This may not be the story I intended to write,
but this is the language of my life.

So what's one more brand new year unfolding -
I've got the same sweat on my brow.
I've bargained my penance and starved for forgiveness;
I'm fat with forgetting now.

A workhorse at the plow.
Fat with forgetting now.

For Get Listed at Real Toads

7 comments:

Fireblossom said...

If you say so.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

WOW! I so know the feeling, as I am a much older workhorse still in the traces. But even we strong ones get tired. I LOVE "I'm fat with forgetting now." Loved this one, Kelli. Always lovely to read you.

angie reinspired said...

Kelli, I'm there plodding (and applauding) with you. A workhorse (house) is strong, and I love that you let the poem lead you perhaps out of the work horse's ruts, and make mention of you as a poet letting this happen when writing a poem. Fat with forgetting is a damn good conceit. You must know my love of fat (not phat) as an adjective and conceit as a comedic bits is exactly what makes me love this. Thanks for linking up.

bell(e) jar(s) said...

I love this: "Look at my hands to see my true face."

Kerry O'Connor said...

This may not be the story I intended to write,
but this is the language of my life.

These lines ring very true to me.

Sanaa Rizvi said...

'Look at my hands to see my true face'.. this is so potent!!

Margaret said...

Always so clever - "I've bargained my penance and starved for forgiveness;
I'm fat with forgetting now." and "This may not be the story I intended to write"... as always I am knocked back into my seat. Brilliant.