Skip to main content

semi-high gloss

photo by Tess Kincaid for Magpie Tales click to enter




when my head
takes a walk on
my heart
and the right words
cease to roll
off my tongue
i put down the pen
pick out some paint
and a brush
and listen
as the four walls talk


Of Vienna Sunsets
Montana Skies
The Golden Prairie Harvest
of 1975
Parisian Rain
Barcelona Nights
and that 
Deepest, Truest Yellow
looks awfully green
in Evening Light
Firetruck Red
takes a coat 
or three of prime
or Banana Whisper
will Scream Orange
every time
walls speak with
Dutch Boy accents
in colorful metaphors
they'll Meet You At The Corner
and they'll hug you by the door
take you to Mystic Mountain
bring you Seashells By The Shore
is this all a Daydream
or am i as high as
Kansas Corn




Rene ~ August 2011

Comments

  1. either way its rather nice...but one will give you a nasty headache in the morning...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Brian..no actual paint fumes were inhaled during the writing of this Magpie

    ReplyDelete
  3. the colors you conjure up are dreamy, i lost my focus just contemplating them!

    ReplyDelete
  4. You've painted all your colours in my mind most beautifully. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  5. wish i had that loveliness to fall back on. :)

    ReplyDelete
  6. We should all be so fumigated...

    As the owner of two brightly painted duplexes (white walls? Me?!), I'm diggin' this on several levels.

    And yes. Primer is our friend.

    Pearl

    ReplyDelete
  7. Can we all get together and inhale? Brian, you, Pearl, and me.....ahhhh those were the days....

    What?

    No, the people, not paint sniffing....

    ReplyDelete
  8. Sweet with lots of colourful wiffs, too! Vienna Sunsets sounds so romantic......!

    ReplyDelete
  9. Color Rene lovely ....

    the smell of paint made me sick during my childhood .. I was always sent to my grandparents whenever a painting project loomed.

    ReplyDelete
  10. I love the bathos in the last line, after the panoply of colours. I guess paint fumes could be psychedelic.

    ReplyDelete
  11. The wonderful fumes - love them and the painted picture(s) they hold.

    Anna :o]

    ReplyDelete
  12. I liked this, but for reasons unknown to me the line "interior latex histories" made me shudder.

    Go figure.

    ReplyDelete
  13. yeah, IG...I don't care much for it either. I figured I'd live with it for a while but the more I look at it the more I don't like it. And some of the rhymes are cringey.This poem is like paint...I'll just cover it over and put up something else...I'm just too lazy right now.

    Go figure.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Splendid! Love the Seashells By The Sea revision. Much brighter than before.

    Although I suppose that 'latex' line could work in a piece of much different mood.

    And? I admire how you boldly go back and change it up. Courage, lass!

    ReplyDelete
  15. I love your way with words! Such imagery! Maybe now that I live in NH too, I'll be able to hear some of these flowery words in person.

    ReplyDelete
  16. thanks for the encouragement, IG...I'm always open to suggestions on any of my writing.
    Sometimes I gets stuck, y'know.

    Alyson! Definitely. We will have to arrange something!

    ReplyDelete
  17. Oooh!I loved your poem...especially the first few lines...:)

    ReplyDelete
  18. Thank you all for your comments! Don't you think the names paint manufacturers give their products are poetry? I wonder what goes into naming paint.

    ReplyDelete
  19. I've always wanted to name paint...or lipstick...or fingernail polish.

    ReplyDelete
  20. Rene - love the direction you took with this and the opening stanza hooked me from the start.

    Great Write!

    ReplyDelete
  21. Nice rhythm and rhyme to this one!

    I love the way words flow here.

    Now, where is that paint can?

    ReplyDelete
  22. I really like this one.

    ReplyDelete
  23. and apparently forgot to give my name...

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Please drop a penny in a poet's hat :

Popular posts from this blog

bridesmaid

Image via Magpie Tales i won't be leaving here with you nor will you be staying with me for any longer than you see fit that is just the way of it it is the silent refrain of my being i won't be leaving here with you but i will stay, until my time is done as your ceremonial chosen one no, this won't be my last tour though it is the first time i won't be leaving here with you shh, now, darling. this is what i do i see it in your eyes, our time's drawing to a close. please don't mind  the tears  they come, they go, it's true... i won't be leaving here with you Rene ~ December 8, 2012

blue willow

i don't like eggs but you knew this already i know you're thinking such a terrible waste but it's not, you see i'm feeding them to the dog she loves them just as much as i know she loved you and the way you walked her as if every single thing she sniffed mattered to you as well sorry, dear pardon my red wine opera crowd violin string tugging (your words) i ramble at breakfast like a fussy percolator but you knew this already morning is when i am most honest and vulnerable i know that's why you left after dinner oh god dammit you i miss you so much what i did before us is a mystery and what i do now is insanity i'm frying up eggs just to smell them again and to perhaps coax you down, from wherever you are for breakfast did you know i believe that there is still a ghost of a chance Rene Foran ~  April 2011 photo by Tess Kincaid for Magpie Tales click for more info