It started as a pale blank canvas
All contoured and absorbed into
The cratered countenance of the earth
Absorbing the strands of the dawn.
A fountain of melted gold,
Marking haphazard halos and designs
Thin marbled rock, with jagged points
Drawing thin red lines on the horizon.
Soft brushes of clouded fingers stretching
‘Cross the gilded sky, overlaid with
Crimsons, magentas and vermilions
Besmirched by the touches of nimbus digits
Purpled and bereft of oxygen.
Digging deep trenches in
The painted silks of the sky
Branded in stunned pallor
That’s blushed into stinging scarlet.
The life between the air and earth
Paused to revere
The drawing of a sunset
‘Pon a lover’s back.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Lovely drawing of a sunset ....
besmirched...i haven't heard that word in a while,
it's a great word! Purple and bereft of oxygen,
i like how you place your adjectives in just the right
place not overdone but with a light touch.
hmmm...do you paint? you write as if you paint, you
blend the colors and hues of words.
Interesting style, you let us in a little but only a glimpse, as we struggle to open the door to see more
of your unique style and soul!
ears2hearyou good job dear poet, good job!
Kathleen : ))
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Haha, no I don't paint.. I'd be lucky if I drew a coherent stickman.
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