Lonely Shore

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Its a poem about the emotions involved with a painter and the colors he associates with his pain.

Submitted: October 02, 2018

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Submitted: October 02, 2018

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"Lonely Shore"


You say the colors never mix the same.
And the canvas never really feels the artist’s shame.
I say the splash of red is more than just a story.
I’ll show an image filled with light to define our planets glory.

Color me blue,
To hide ourselves from thoughts that life is only pain.
Color me black,
To go unnoticed all alone we're crying in the rain.

Color me red,
Pay no attention that I’m pale and falling down.
Color me white,
Screaming of a time when we used art, to tell a tale.

When does the heartbeat cease the flow of blood running from my soul?
The pitter-patter of demise, a trail for those who stray from the road,
We cut it wide, from A to B, attempts to fill the dark with light-
Futile yet we always stumble through shattered glass this endless night.
To reach the end-
And color me dead.

Easel bears the layered shades of those who bled before.
A splash, a drip, a memory that never made it to the floor.
Caught for a moment, called eternity, we cannot escape.
Until the frame is broken, and discarded with our hate.
You never knew my love for you, but with blood I drew it on the walls,
It follows and looks after you, it picks you up when you should fall.

Color me orange,
As daylight breaking, to summon forth the dawn.
Color me green,
A path of life few dare ever treaded on.

Color me not!
In the moment when you feel nothing for the work.
Color me always,
With emotion, unabridged, unforgiving in its time.

Our tripod is falling, your tears follow as the rain,
Imbued with sadness, drowned in sorrow and laid soaking in your pain.
A shadow adds the mystery, mere dab of tempest night.
Sets your scene up for crescendo, and hearts now setting right. 

Color me lonely,
In the evenings, when all are fast asleep.
Color me crying,
In the moment when a man should never weep.

Color me now.
Just color me always.

Color me with rainbows. Steeped in tales of strife.
A dash of hopeful yellow, as I search for a wife.
Saline mixed with darkened blues, once started as so light-
Yet as the dawn turns to the dusk, paint me in the night.
A streak of desolation starts thin, but piles on.
As we reach for the button that replays our favorite song.

Crimson shed by heartbreak, and twisted blade in gut.
Reject me in a moment, yet I still crawl in the blood.
Labored breath in speaking, these jumbled words emerge.
The loss is so frustrating, as torrents tears do surge.

I turn to walk away, angel, look on me no more.
The desolate cast from the pit, to drown on Lonely Shore.

Color me rose,
A sign of passion, a depth for character.
Color me blue,
Returning laden, with tears always just for her.
Color my life.
From black and white.
Color my strife,
From happy.
And color me dead.


© Copyright 2018 Jonathan hanson. All rights reserved.

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