Thursday, November 6, 2014

Painting


PAINTING

Let us paint the hours of the day.

Morning is swimming pool blue
Tinctured with blown ash,
Pink gloaming
Touched by wisps of smoke;
Noon, phosphorus exploding
Blindingly, silently;
Dusk, iron oxides
Diverse as vegetables;
Night, plush sable,
Milky white, the moon.

Each word is pigment squeezed from a tube
Onto a palette of infinite possibilities.

Meaning would be unremembered
But for a picture.

Experience is meaningless
But for a symbol.

Deft brushstrokes write freshly.
Words are left to dry.

Originally published in IthacaLit (September 27, 2014)



Dawn at Tentsmuir by Ken Bushe

2 comments:

  1. The word is the image of the thing.

    Poetry is painting that speaks.
    Painting is poetry that's silent.

    Simonides (6th century B.C.)

    Simonides Quotes: http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/644611.Simonides

    Gonzalinho

    ReplyDelete
  2. Images of works of art are posted on this website according to principles of fair use, specifically, they are posted for the purposes of information, education, and especially, contemplation.

    Gonzalinho

    ReplyDelete