I paint clouds like bruises on a sullen sky;
roses like the skinned knees when you came off your bike,
trees like the butterfly stitches and the scars. You try
to find something in my work you like
but fail. “What is it then?” you say,
I shrug. “The landscape of another day.”
8 comments:
I just had an image of me falling off my bike when I was about 9yrs old. Wow Rachel. I can see the house we lived in and the new pavement on the street with the huge ditches filled with raging spring water. The house doesn't have any grass on the side yard and my Dad is angry - again.
Well, I'm glad to have sparked a memory, even if it wasn't a great one.
LD those colours are life-enhancing, and your poetry is always stunning, by which I mean it always gives us thought. Have a fabulously creative weekend!
Thank you, dear lady.
Such gorgeous colours Rachel.
Right. Well, this is my new favourite poem of yours. Just beautiful.
Stunning. Both.
You are all too kind. Thank you.
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