It was an interesting workshop where I discovered different ways to look at things, different ways to find inspiration outside of yourself. One of the exercises was to try to use words in a new way defined by you but so that the reader/listener can get the meaning. I chose to use colours. Here's my poem, worked on a bit after the workshop.
The Colourful Coward
He’s like
orange in that fake way,
Like the
way orange looks bouncy and smells sickeningly-happy
But it
really isn’t.
He likes
to speak about African princesses and stars
Though
he only touches them with grey.
That
cold, unattached, slippery, non-committed side of grey,
Not the
killer side
The side
with passion.
I would
have welcomed the killer side.
Even
just a sliver to know he had it somewhere under everything the world saw of
him.
Blue is
where he likes hiding
When I
insist he cut the bullshit.
When his
orange and too-slick grey does my head in.
Blue, all
stout and round and sturdy
Rolling,
rolling— pretending as if my eyes are immune to blue.
But I
see it.
I see
him thinking he’s safe there.
I know
all about these things.
Blue is
part of it- isn’t it?
Part of
the problem.
Blue,
she lets him hide there
And she makes
everything worse.
4 comments:
Love it Lauri! Love how you play with colours, the poem is very dramatic, the tension, the pace, - I looked at the ending and though maybe the two last lines should stand on its own as you then talk about "she" ? Maybe you should change, "and she makes everything worse" "Blue, she lets him hide there" is so beautiful, so full of meaning and I think the next line is too direct - I love the poem Lauri. Diana
Thanks for the help Diana and your nice comments. It is still a work in progress. Actually, I'm always editing everything- even published books.
i like,so much sharing it right now.
cool, its exciting
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