All posts tagged: colour

Colour Comes Undone – A Poem By Carol J Forrester

I can knot myself into a kaleidoscope.Pull in every shade of my beingtill I flicker out of sight,be whole in my absence. Still, a Muse will find my reflectionin the ripples on a lake,a shivering blade of grass,half a note of birdsong.Some such poetic nonsense always betrays me.Reveals the stress fracturesscattering from my joints,the places you will press into meto dig out meanings.To understand me you must dismantleall the elements within these limbsthen jigsaw them into your own creation.Redefine all the colours in the prism,and leave none to belong to me.

The Portrait

I stumbled across a piece of artwork that was created by an artist who liked tonight’s earlier piece. Ray Ferrer’s piece: ‘Life… in Black and White’ inspired the piece of poetry below, so I thought I would add it up tonight and I hope that he likes the words that this wonderful image brought about. The Portrait She wanted to be painted without colour, Shaped from it’s absence instead. Or if he was desperate Craving ink and oil of crimson, saffron, sky, Then he had to paint her with them all And lay the opposites together on the canvas To show… Black and white are always bound To be puzzle pigments Where division holds only in the eyes of closed minds.

Siren’s Song

James McCormic wouldn’t realise it until it was too late, but he never stood a chance when it came to the beautiful girl sitting in the window of the coffee shop on St George’s Street. He had to walk past the shop most mornings, his eyes flickering towards the flawless glass each time, just to check if she was there. Always waiting with her coffee cup in one hand and a blank covered book perched carefully upon her knee. She never saw him. At least James knew that she had never looked at him. Her gaze would remain downcast and he would walk on by pretending that he hadn’t spent half an hour preening in the mirror to perfect his hair, just in case she turned and saw him. Each day his pace slowed further, stuttering slightly as the battered chalkboard menu crept into view. He thought it was his own courage telling him to push open the door of the café, and shuffle towards the counter where the waitress smiled helpfully. She filled the …