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My Palette
by Jody PrattMy palette is only half as empty
as it could have been,
if you hadn't tempted me to fill it in.
Yet despite the itching and scratching
of a paint brush dispatching
paint to a surface of a canvas;
once white as a ghost,
now red as a kiss.
I still find this canvas
as empty as the crevice
that you left in my heart.
I guess that must be why they call it art.
A black backdrop drops back
behind the red over black,
counteracting my intention to meld the two.
The red is as distant,
and insignificant,
from the black as I am to you.
Now smeared its all so clear.
Mixing a red heart with a black makes red disappear. 05/20/2009 Posted on 11/29/2010
Copyright © 2024 Jody Pratt
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 11/29/10 at 01:20 PM Keep up the painting. Nothing worth while comes easily. Good write. |
| Posted by Jim Benz on 11/30/10 at 05:40 PM Good use of metaphor. The whole poem is nicely done Jody. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/04/10 at 04:34 PM "The red is as distant,
and insignificant,
from the black as I am to you." I really like how this is constructed. Also a fascinating last line. Thank you. |
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