PAINTED POEMS
I can’t paint,
but I like impressionistic paintings
and some modern art pieces.
I like to paint poems,
poems that are impressions —
impressions of inner conversations,
realities people are mumbling about
in their gallery, their garage – or their attic,
to try to see modern ways
of seeing old themes they vent about:
anger, angst, hope, despair,
morning, night, and blue beauty
in the mist – in the midst of one’s life,
in the mix of personal relationships.
Sometimes after sitting with someone
for a hour or so, they look
like squeezed paint tubes.
Gobs of words, blobs of feelings,
brush strokes and streaks of beauty,
becoming their paintings: exhibitions
they have invited me to look at
on the walls of their soul.
poems that are impressions —
impressions of inner conversations,
realities people are mumbling about
in their gallery, their garage – or their attic,
to try to see modern ways
of seeing old themes they vent about:
anger, angst, hope, despair,
morning, night, and blue beauty
in the mist – in the midst of one’s life,
in the mix of personal relationships.
Sometimes after sitting with someone
for a hour or so, they look
like squeezed paint tubes.
Gobs of words, blobs of feelings,
brush strokes and streaks of beauty,
becoming their paintings: exhibitions
they have invited me to look at
on the walls of their soul.
© Andy Costello, Reflections 2008
Don't forget to put the cursor on a picture and tap, tap, mouse, mouse, to see the pictures a bit larger.
[Top Blue] White-and-Greens-in-Blue-Posters by Mark Rothko
[One sailboat picture] Sunset at Sea by Childe Hassam
[Man in boat with oar] Impression Sunrise by Claude Monet
[Wall on left] Autumn in Bavaria by Wasily Kadinsky
[Truck on top] Death in the Ridge Road by Grant Wood
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