Even the drapes are orange
inside,
the curves and edges
of citrus juices and
colourful words
remind me
of me.
A blank canvas
of a single shade;
feathers and wheat fields
in the sunrise;
blossoms, autumn
and auburn hair;
naked skin and the
winter sun,
even the drapes are orange
inside, me.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I like this a lot. I like the ambiguity of what all this orange means, yes you are orange, but what is orange? the questioning in it means everyone will walk away with something different.
Even the drapes are orange is a lovely line, but sort of stood out a tad too much. Everything was in nature, all natural beauty and sights, and then we are struck with this commonplace household thing. I don't know if this is what you were searching for, but it was a tad to... blunt for my tastes.
A really good poem otherwise, good job. -
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Thanks for your helpful comment.
I'm sorry it wasn't all to your taste, however I'm glad what I was trying to do worked...unfortunatly it was the part that you wasn't too sure of.
I was going for not exactly a literal sense of drapes, but drapes as in the metaphor of a quality being shaded by drapes. Sometimes the drapes may be a different colour to hide the real person...here I'm trying to suggest the real person is already been shown, hence "even the drapes are orange." I was hoping the line would appear overemphasized to porray the rarity of the quality.
Thanks again for your honest and extreemely helpful comment.
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very pretty
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WOW! I loved it! Beautiful imagery. Good job!
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