A canvas yellow, red, blue
dripped lines in cardinal direction
color exclaiming loudly the veracity of veracity
the frame shuddered at its charge
Bold, this hand who painted
bold, this mind who sees
and dreams
Tag Archives: red
Ruby Red
She sits
lingering in the front of the mirror
with every intention of painting
smiles upon her lips
nails slightly chipped linger gently over
silver and gold flaked appliances
of her trade, she waits
for. the….
right moment
when the song on the radio
evades sound and
transcendent bound – aries
then. she…
wades into life
painting away 5 o’clock
and men-tal
notes of doubt
with a pale concoction, #7.
Leaning into reflections
the soft color of her skin
radiates bright with each
brush of perfection
with. each… brush
of.
there just right
she sits back and admires.
her – technique is flawless
her – skill untouched by fear
first the base of life
a touch of charcoal here and
here .
a splash of smokey gray
a sparkle to accentuate play- fullness
delight – a butterfly in flight
and as the melody
rhapsodies to climax
she finalizes her transformation
with the stroke of midnight and
haiku
leaving behind any trace of
the who
is worn every day
from dread a.m. to just an hour ago;
and lives;
ruby red.
Lead Balloon
There . it . sat
unyielding, unswerving in
its definance against the air;
my balloon.
I painted it red
I, gathered up its edges where
the rope gingerly hangs on
I, blew, I threw, I even kicked
it a few times…
but still
it goes nowhere;
my balloon.
The people passing by are
starting to stare.
The boy on the see saw
the girl on the swing
even the mothers who usually
say nothing to me
are now intensely investigating
me;
my balloon.
I thought it’d be grand,
a design
to prevent storms from taking it
winds from breaking it
birds from popping it,
to make the world
see differently,
to convince the inconvincible
of my genius.
Every detail painstakingly thought
every solution and method
from wood to corrugated box
but lead just seemed the most
malleable and freeing.
Ancients used it in curses and
blessings, why even now it
protects from all kinds of il- ‘adiations
our scientific curiosities run us into,
so why not from other
‘nations of curiosities albeit
feathered and tempestuous in origin?
But, alas, here it sits, unwilling and un-obliging,
unwavering obtuse in its weightless
determination to not float, this
dripping in red acrylic and cotton;
my balloon.
{{Thank you to sonofwalt at dadpoet.wordpress.com/ . I think I am going to do a few more of these Cliche’ poems. 🙂 }}
saying it anyway 