This weeks poem is…. well my only defense is it’s my painting week which may be no defense at all, but there it is. A look inside my paint box and one too many conversations with canvases and paintings that are waiting to be… *cheesy grin*
I hope you all had a good Easter/Long weekend. My best wishes to all for a good week to come.
In My Paint Box….
I am always dreaming…
Writing you letters
in my heart so stained now with ink blots
I am black from within
leaving fingerprint stains upon the cranium of retrospective wonderings.
I am forever dreaming…
Rich satin fantasies
billowing their cardinal red ribbons
impressed in their own surrealism.
Torrid and haughty in their Tyrian purples
abandoning me on the horizon of their Prussian blues…
How do I do?
How do I paint you in that fleeting vision
That flees from consciousness?
How can I free this spirit
gain perspective in these shadows
when the physical realm is so intransigent?
I have to stop dreaming…
Nostalgia of collisions, of lovers bliss
celebrating scarlet passions on veridian shadowed grasses.
But you were so alive…
Running up hills dressed in your best sunflower yellows.
You captured my eye, romanced my heart within vibrant symbolism…
To leave me so lost without you…
How many letters can I write?
How deep is the ink well of fascination?
I fear the blackness bleeding
like the creeping shadows that shut out the stars
enclosing me in blurry abstract nights.
Even when my eyes are open
sun-streaked, cold, in lapis lazuli ponderings
I am still dreaming…
Reflected in the mirror
eyes pleading, hopeful, vivid
holding your textured visions of burnt luminescent orange hues.
Alizarin crimson cheeks
blotchy against cadmium red string flames.
Can’t stop dreaming…
As pink (mad)der pouted lips pose
waiting for the unconscious thought…
©2012 Tikarma Vodicka