Friday, July 1, 2016

A Drop of Iris

Because tomorrow is a special day.


Paint me black, for the hiding unknown.
Night enshrouds the moon as a swaddle does the newborn. So I, too, had taken comfort in what could not be seen. My eyes would close, and I to sleep, and none to know the better.  

Paint me grey, for the opioid of haze.
A smoke, a screen, a brook to drown hands in. So they reached from a fenced perch, impartial but greedy, a dangerous mix. For they slipped on silver and sent me plummeting headfirst.  

Paint me white, for the first snowfall.
Stunning and stark yet new and pure to find myself here. At my feet, a blank canvas for Father Time and Mother Earth. We joined them, and I adorned colors only you dared to create:
 
Paint me violet, for the fleeting and unbound.  
A new cosmos to undermine is no easy feat. Such is the potential of a flawless allure tipped in tears unshed, made malleable into one more broken yet of beauty unimagined.
 
Paint me indigo, for the peripheral vision.
Step, step. Down the road, straight and narrow. Step, step. You take your own, straight, and narrow. We cannot stray, but I find your gaze just as you catch my betraying eyes. The road hums with syncopated breath, and I always hope it will curve.
 
Paint me blue, for the untempered heart.
I know not a good deal when I see one. I merely give, and take. When it was or how it came to be, I gave you a key with little thought or worry to come. To unlock many and fear none pales all, my love.
 
Paint me green, for Libra’s scales.
Where our fingertips meet, the caps crest, and the undulation cries. The low draws in, and the high coaxes out what might otherwise lie untouched. For one without the other, there is no horizon to admire.
 
Paint me yellow, for the wonder of the mind.
Where I find no, you find yes, and quite the opposite can be said. I stumbled into a maze where lies built walls and truth built lies. You didn’t understand, so you left. Sometimes I feel you revealed the way out.
 
Paint me orange, for the thrill of a day.
Place and time became Picassos. Instead, sound and sense molded the frameworks of my memory using the rich tones of your smile and the map of your body. What I remember is no longer where or when we were, but what we are.
 
Paint me red, for the incessant fervor.
To follow you is nothing short of bathing in sunlight, where something warm traces its way inside. But, perhaps, that is what the sun does. It finds and warms and changes. You may not yet understand the effect of your flames, and don’t ask it of me. For one eventually understands why fire burns.
   
Paint me something farther, a curve of the unseen that will freely align.
And let me dream that I have dyed you, too,
                                  In a beautiful shade deeper.


~E

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

A Rosebud

Last but not least:
 
“A Rosebud”
-Robert Burns
 
This one felt like a beautiful simile to the gentle tug between youth and age. It starts out with him admiring a rosebud early in the morning when the sun is just rising and the red of the light catches the dew on the bud. Then it shifts inside its bush where a bird is waking up among the dew. She watches her babies who are also waking up and making noise to wake the rest of the neighborhood. After that, Burns describes the care and gentleness of the mother bird and the youth of the morning rosebud. He says the rosebud will go on to watch over the mother until the evening, symbolizing that youth will watch and learn from their elders until their elders’ ends.

~E


Address to the Toothache

And here's review #2:
 
“Address to the Toothache”
-Robert Burns
 
I couldn’t understand all of the Scottish slang in this one, but the use of context clues helped me understand the humor. A toothache isn’t the worst thing that could happen, but he purposefully exaggerates all of these different kinds of ailments, still placing a toothache above them. He makes himself out to be a pitiful victim drooling over himself and getting laughed at. Then to finish it off, he damns his toothache to the darkest pit of hell. That’s a little over the top if you ask me but definitely amusing.
 
~E
 

Remorse

Back from my trip to college! So here are these overdue reviews:
 
“Remorse”

-Robert Burns
Okay, let’s be honest. I chose this poem and the other two because they were a few that I could actually make sense of the words since there was limited Scottish dialect.
For this piece, I heard him talking about how there are many bad things that hurt us emotionally, the worst of which being that which we bring on ourselves. It’s bad when people usually just blame others for problems, but it’s even worse when we blame ourselves and become consumed by remorse. Then we realize how many other people we’ve blamed and gotten involved in our messes and the remorse merely multiplies itself. The most envious kind of person is he who can control his remorse and make amends to set himself to peace.
I feel this ending thought is the true embodiment of what to be envious of. People may think to be envious of someone who can feel no remorse, but that would only be jealousy of a monster. Burns circumvents this by describing who people really should be envious of.
 
~E

Saturday, April 9, 2016

Saggitarius

You give me a suit. I give you no shirt. 
You give me a house. I give you no attendance. 
You give me work. I give you the bird. 
You give me a girl. I give you a broken heart. 

I want to be free. 
So let me be me.

(K)

~E

Scorpio

If I had my way, you'd never be able to see what's outside, not just inside, me. 
Some people don't need glasses to have perfect vision, though. 
I hate these people. 
I need them, though. 
They can dodge my push, reign in my pull. 
And I need that. 
I love them. 

(W)

~E

Libra

Glue, glue, glue. 
Stick, stick, stick. 
This world is quickly going to shit. 

Stick, stick, stick. 
Glue, glue, glue. 
I've chosen a side and so must you. 

I've kept us together the best that I could
But this fire is eating all of the wood. 

My hands are reaching to catch the fall
But this fire is going to consume us all. 

(C)

~E