I sit alone
on my living room floor
a cold pervades
not ambient
embraced by absence
a chill a void
abandonment
is my canvas
the color on the brush
matters not
nor the brush stroke
whether in water or oil
in the warmth of blues
the freshness of the whites
the yellows
the passion of the reds
the purples
the darkness of the black
the olives
can’t find the paint
that places smiles on faces
unfeigned glee in eyes
kindness in the heart
caring of open palms
I sit
with my Bonsai
surrounded by a
a spider plant
succulents
a tall corn plant
a sprawling fern
purple variegates
my two small gentle souls
curled on my lap
providing calm
and warmth
supplanting an uncaring
human kind
I love succulents. They are great plants (very poetic, I think).
ReplyDeleteYou should write a poem about chesterdrawers! I love invented/adapted words like that.
Your poem exudes such a sense of loneliness and sadness. The plants and animals seem more "alive" than you in this piece.
ReplyDeleteLove succulents, they remind me of the feline group of 'pets', independent and little attention required. Have a few extra in my 'chesterdrawers', Hannah.
ReplyDelete"...loneliness and sadness" is a common denominator of most writers/artists is it not, Lolamouse? To write on occasion from this place is a conduit of catharsis.
Life is a lonely place but keeping it in perspective is the trick don't you think, Lolamouse (mi amiga)