today I tried painting.
I had seen this image in my mind for the last 24 hours,
and for some reason, I decided it must be on a canvas.
but something is off.
the blends of texture and color and pattern
don’t string together in my mind to create
the way I like to play with imagery, cadence, and rhythm.
brush strokes don’t feel natural in my hands
the way delicate abstraction or jolting precision
of language sounds in my ears.
come to think of it
this picture I wanted to paint
was like a still-image –
I don’t understand.
Words in my head dance;
they change partners until there are graceful steps
and invite me to a few songs
a break from reality for a spell…
which can easily turn to hours.
I don’t see careful chrysanthemum red-gold
on this palette.
I don’t know how to paint
the sweet scent of sleepy, cool raindrops
or the dizzy exhilaration of running
or the mysterious howl of intuition
inside.
and here I am lost and entranced
once again.
I was supposed to take a 5-minute break,
yet I’ve been writing for an hour.
Poetry
Likes
1294 Views
Share: