drop seeps to a flat abstraction
pulled to a bloom across black-still.
Slow ripple moves to perfection
becoming whole from the inside out.
This is no Monet
squeezed pigments plastered on white
no trapped fleeting, holding still
an inimitable flash.
Here, colour-float spreads swirls
held fast by not quite meeting
capillary motion draws a slow passing
and no lasting proof of the once-hovered hue.
I wrote this poem for last weekend’s Greytown Arts Festival. You can read about our poetic adventures on Mary’s blog and more Tuesday Poems here.
This is just lovely Saradha. I have always found it incredibly difficult to incorporate such sensory explorations as art and colour, but you do a wonderful job.
I love it that you express so much in such few lines Saradha.
great to see you posting again. Best Helen