Pushing Pastels -- The Muse Mongers Motel Poetry Archives

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Subject: Pushing Pastels

Author:
andy

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Date Posted: 20:59:22 01/15/08 Tue

chak
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Pushing Pastels

On Thursdays
I'd pet the cat
while she sipped mint tea
in the head winds of
our silent debates

what becomes of love
after the ship sinks?

the Titanic truth
of attraction
fading fast to
a compromise
of some lesser
acceptance

In the mauve days
of my etch-a-sketch past
where no lines were ever
straight enough to avoid
distorted views

I see her there on the sofa
looking like Bewitch
with a twitch of her nose
she believed she'd
change the world

It was all so black and white...back then
these days I live in the pastel pastures
of promises hanging in an open sky

Flower my pen
and lead me on

there is nothing vacant in a soul
nothing empty in a dream
so long as the poet cries
and the rain falls once a week
the colors of our gardens
will lead us further on

My good friend
saw her on the beach
there's nothing left for me to say
the gray found its place
between the black and white
today I snap my shots in color
as the warm breeze of tomorrow
paints my face in the promise
of gifts beyond a great surrender
waiting on the hillside of a coming morn'

Today is Saturday
I pet the cat
he's black and white

though his persona
blooms in colors
I have yet to name

ajs

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