Painted Poem. By MarciaMarcia

 

Painted Poem by     

           MarciaMarcia

•  
• strike…L…strike…o…two more…strike…v ….strike…e…
• Love…strike…
• I look away from my old typewriter 
• don’t go…come 
• Make more marks, 
• stay,  
• so I stay
• and stare 
• at the held whiteness 
• there the letters come alive, these alphabetical symbols,
• they pause and move they sway and stretch themselves longer, taller, wider in proof… 
• in final stay…  in line, online…
• make love…strike…
• love…strike…
• wait…love was…love is  
• is…still…strike…
• is 
• was…love   
• combined in phrase
• on snow white ground, 
• meaningless marks 
• wait in search of others 
• within time’s fractal placement
• till once tethered in stance 
• engage meaning to their existence 
• love was … is…was-is still…strike…
• my hand picks up softest sable hair twined to the tip of a woodden stick
• dipping
• in pigmented water 
• wet like tears 
• It leads drops of 
• colors flowing from each strand
• transparent 
• lined swirls and ridges 
• the layered now colored letters seen beyond
• their white grounded marks in shade’s shaped phrases
• these hands that strike keys and spread hues of sun’s scorched sepia 
• like earth on white…ground 

     I put tender sable    

     brush down 

    the other hand   

    reaches for key’s

    words hidden 

    in wait 

    in want of a strike…

   an aching dusky light   

   reveals the hour’s past

   in marks in colors

   hands now stroke the 

soft wood…..

softness beside the instruments of creation

lost hours altered in imagination 

these 

hands hold this warmed heart 

still at beat

in slowed irregularity, quieting, each lessens each 

and

time’s cavernous wound 

its raw pulse, 

mine…now…

I raise one hand

and strike…time’s

 passage…strike… …strike… ….        Strike… … …

see…there

on whiteness and tear colored stain…strike…

an undeniable truth stands stilled, 

love passes too quickly in time’s reckoning…and

then…sleeps forever 

from all 

rhythmic cadence 

at the moment of last’s outward breath 

one final tender beat

 

in darkness I see

in stilled stillness of still

one…once was…

no more…Is…

 

ambiguous loss

 

the painted poem 

of a lifetime 

 He…………….is gone