AN ARTIST’S PALETTE
Nature leaves an artist’s imprint
on all that it reaches.
Waves of the ocean can appear
in the coldest reaches.
Nature’s colorful palette
extends from the sky to beaches.
We might try to copy nature’s soft stroke,
but we must listen to what it teaches.
A candy store of fun.
Which one to choose?
Yellow or red?
Maybe a binding of white?
No choice can be bad.
I sit alone by the table.
I hear voices.
Sounds of movement.
Sounds of life.
I reach out.
I feel something smooth.
A plate.
A meal.
Smells tickle my nose.
Aromas of chicken.
Sweet smells of pudding.
Smells of life.
What color is the food?
Is the sun shining?
Are the faces around me young or old?
So many questions.
Questions I can’t answer,
I’ve never been able to answer.
For I’ve been blind,
Living in the dark for years.
The nursing home is now my prison.
I sit alone,
Ignored by the staff,
Poked by the staff.
This is not the ending
I would have envisioned for myself.
A darkness too encompassing.
A sadness too overwhelming.
Bring a little color to the white,
Cascade down the bricks every night.
Roses will soon bring red to the scheme,
Adding so much more to the scene.
Source:weheartit.com
Water in waves of blue and green.
Nothing can be so clear and clean.
Sunshine beating down on my head.
I have made the soft sand my bed.
Palm trees fan the warm ocean air.
I can feel the breeze in my hair.
A place like this must exist.
A dream like this I can’t resist.
Split Rock Magic by RJIPhotography on Flickr.
Red glows the sky.
I can see it
from way up high.
The water below
like a mirror I
can say hello.
The wind comes in.
I am chilled from
windows too thin.
This is still my place,
I wouldn’t trade it
for any other place.
A reflection of perfection.
Better than the original?
It moves.
It shimmers.
It elongates.
It stretches.
Distorting the original.
A reflection.
It governs our lives.
It sets our course
On the paths, we follow.
Igniting our colors
And forming our creations.
Like words in a book
And brush strokes on an easel.
It gives us life
In multi-color.
What is it for you?
Portovenere, Italy ~ Luca Libralato
Brush strokes of blue and gray
to fill in the puffy clouds.
Crayon swipes of teal and aquamarine
to meet at the neverending horizon.
Each wave swell of the purest white
to rise from the depths of dark blue.
My fingers reach for the canvas.
My eyes travel to the brushes.
I shake my head.
No painting is needed.
No copy to diminish the essence
of a perfect summer day at the shore.
THE RAINBOW
Some days can be heartless.
Some days cruel.
Bringing sorrow and tears.
Bringing you down to your knees.
Until you give up hope.
Give up on your dreams.
Refuse to lift your head.
Refuse to face another day.
And then comes the rainbow.
