art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
The Hughes of Yellow
The Hughes of yellow I’m weirdly unique in ways only my art can explain…..so here’s my attempt to show it. For years I’ve displayed a perfect portrait of emotions. I often stare blankly at the countless, smeared, unfinished canvases I’ve been so reluctant to show the world. Knowing at some point they’d see my imperfections. I’ve always seen my life in an array of colors, for that’s how every mood was represented. I’ve masked my emotions with bright colors for so long and Now that I’m facing the truth it seems that I may be color blind. Currently, The colors of my soul are just of the black spectrum. Most nights I drive home in silence, in deep thought about how I take the same torn roads. How I see the same dull, green trees that now seems to be grey and I think of the length of their existence. The same houses with large front porches illuminated by a shade of white. I think of the families that have occupied them and filled it with love and laughter. Late Night dinners that eased their hungers before bed. I grow tired of the loneliness in my life and how each day ends the same and every morning starts just as it had the day before. The tears I cry are of a yellow tint, I know because I recognize the acidic taste of lemons as the tears flow down to my lips. How can a color that has brightened my soul in its darkest hour. Made me feel whole when I was only half full. Mentally Nurtured me back to health but still, have the power to bring me so much anxiety and sadness. In this sadness i think of how my father was a man I never knew, but in my mind I needed him to be a hero. Just 74 days left before my 30th birthday and I’ve finally met him. My life has a different meaning and has changed the way I see colors. Like a deep blue ocean I feel peaceful and strong. I grew proud to call him my father and for that was represented by shades of purple. When I was young, red was only a color of rage but now I only see the actions it took for me to find him, the confidence it took to grow into who I am without his presence and in return makes me see red as the loving and healing color it is. For most of my life my favorite color was purple. Now, I understand why....For he was the royal king in every one of my fairytales and I his princess of pink. Like the chirps of a yellow canary life with him in it became a golden melody and now I have this realization: The water colored paintings made of my tears have now become my biggest and best works of art.
By Marissa hughes5 years ago in Poets
Colour me in
I am the colours of my heart. Reflected in a summer sky. In different hues and shades of Blue and little clouds all puffed up and white. I am the colours of my hands as they toil away in a garden green. The flowers and weeds plant little seeds all growing, wanting to be seen. I am the colours of my mind swirling in a purple haze and all those feelings deep inside I hope can brighten someone's gaze. I am the colours of my soul my energy shared in golden light. In connection too each shade and hue are the colours with which I paint my life.
By Darlene Dean5 years ago in Poets
Some sweet talking sideways babe
Some sweet talking sideways babe ,looks to me with a blush ,maybe was the answer it seemed maybe later exactly, said I'd wait to walk a run of a million times around the sun,riddles in time spoke of her as the one ,what have I now become ,look in the mirror scars of a fire, too full of desires ,and the ageless ancient empire is a humble hero ,so I remain calm and composed through a valley of arrows ,dead soldiers ,dead soldiers ,the great composer keeping his composure ,mozart mixed with bogart ,peaceful smokey art ,and he bleeds to print his heart ,a fucking mess from the start ,a corpses head became his friend,to live he had to understand death,deep within the depths of his every step near that pharmacist were electric ,shocking to mention ,alls I really wanted was a friendship ,but I'm too honest for this dimension, leads me to where I end up ,Heaven ,dont gotta show me the directions I can spot a light in the night ,my one last hope at getting it right ,voodoo lullabies in my eyes ,have we all already passed to the otherside......in my mind I can see it all so clearly now as to why you had me so figured out homes where the heart is home is where my heart is,can someone understand the logic all roads lead to home ,and I am a sacred soul belong in a sacred temple ......as I grow I see the feelings resemble a divine dream assembled ,never was a architect but I'll try and make it all complete
By Robert mackenna5 years ago in Poets
