While undertaking this challenge I've enjoyed sound play, and frankly, I've enjoyed not trying to hard to finish the poem. Liken it to mining. Stream of consciousness, etc. It's calming. The prompt was to write a dirty or clean poem (in all of it's permutations)
Getting dirty building a treehouse
Oil and grease, gaps in the gunk where pink shows
right on up to the sun, and the aluminum glint
across the skin where the screws shaved and were gutted
as the drill pounded and roared. The skin glitters
with aluminum sparks. There are ticks tucked behind ears
and knees so long did we crawl and swing the wood
to build the frame and straighten the structure.
A tree house raised into the air, into the blossoms
How it will transform and enlarge the play
of the children it will house, bite and rest.
Getting dirty building a treehouse
Oil and grease, gaps in the gunk where pink shows
right on up to the sun, and the aluminum glint
across the skin where the screws shaved and were gutted
as the drill pounded and roared. The skin glitters
with aluminum sparks. There are ticks tucked behind ears
and knees so long did we crawl and swing the wood
to build the frame and straighten the structure.
A tree house raised into the air, into the blossoms
How it will transform and enlarge the play
of the children it will house, bite and rest.
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