Here between my easel and I:

What does lie,

here between

my Easel & I?

apathy

empty

blank white titanium

flat canvas

and I

am ever the Greatest-

procrastinator, it seems

of all time.

What does lie between,

my Easel and I?

a heightened sense of imperfection.

tears of frustration

of hesitation

they run down my face

almost invisible,

as if I am only crying on the inside

for my cheeks lie

both bare & dry.

But the true color of my tears,

are those of unspent, built up:

cadmium yellow hue,

alizarin crimson streaks,

dabs of cobalt blue

puddles of pink & purple

and shades of

burnt sienna.

Acrylic shiny colorful tears

that refuse to budge or give in,

tears that refuse to splatter

shatter the ground

and fall

like broken ideas at my feet.

What stands between my easel & I?

Pented up emotions.

Broken Daydreams.

Unspoken fantasy.

Un-Spilled milk running,

like unspoken poetry

and unpainted starbursts

of foggy, hazy, unspent

lately-

the ghost of my

own creativity.

CAM00673

 

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Funky Town

CAM00670

I painted this watercolor a couple weeks ago.
I just decided to call it Funky Town because all the buildings were in bright bold colors like the Fauves or Renaissance period “Mannerism”.

I wanted to write a poem about it.
But I wanted it to speak for itself.
The wash of colors, the emptiness of a deserted town, the sky
with troubled and smoky clouds
which danced upon the Sky.

I wanted to write a poem about it.
But I wanted it to speak for itself.
Using visual elements, the added texture of watercolor pencils
sketching in at the last possible minute.

I wanted to write a poem about it.
But I wanted it to speak for itself.
I wanted the eye to dance from left to right.
I wanted the shapes to form words
in your heart and onto your lips…

to say what type of details
were just not right.

I wanted to write a poem about it.
But I wanted it to speak for itself.
But it refused to speak and
all the colors clashed
beneath their vivid might.

I wanted to write a poem about it.
But I wanted it to speak for itself.
I wanted to write a poem about it,
but the words just would not
come out right….