I paint me my
Rarely seen
Watercolor Soul.
Purple-blue
Washed in Gold.
I stain my Page
Silver rain
For Age.
Streak my Sky-
Dark clouds
To hide
Evaporated Pain;
Clumped tight
Inside.
Invisible Wind
To blow through them-
Make them
Shift...
Make them
Bend.
Exquisite
Watercolor
Shapes
Within...
Hide the Truth
Behind Watercolor Lies.
Stain-wash skies
Shoulder the burden
Of my Soul...
Salt-water shades
Cover the page.
Bending,
Swirling,
Shades,
Hues...
Fake the Fable
To hide
What's True.
Landscape.
Still-life.
Portrait too...
Abstract literal
Art of the Soul-
Eye-bait
To placate
Pain-laden
Substrate.
For Beauty lies
Behind the Eyes
Of the gentle gazers
Passing by.
Gaze not
Deeply,
At my Sky.
Wonder not
At the turbulence
Of the clouds...
....of what they hide....
-Think Only-
They are beautiful
Wind-swept Skies.
Watercolor Memories
Of a happier time.
Watercolor Lies
That Pain
Hides
Behind.
Trapped on the Page-
The perfect cage.
No tears to undo
The most perfect Hues.
Put it in a Frame.
Hang it on a Wall.
Testament to torment
Held-
In hideous thrall.
To the beauty of Lies.
Watercolor Tears
fall...
The painting-
hides it all.
Watercolor Pain
In clouds
That never let go.
Watercolor Truth
Held captive...
Held-
For Show.
But only for those
Whose Eyes
Truly know....
Whose Eyes
Never close.
Who See
In Me-
....Watercolor Prose....
YOU ARE READING
Book Of Counted Sorrows
PoesíaAn exercise in demented Adventure. A Test of ingenious Insanity. Fragile words spewed forth into the abyss of the the electronic medium. Diamonds forged in the coalmines of Memory. *OR......just pages upon pages of crap ;-)...* Only Time and Effort...
