Colour

my palette, paled under

the false light of obfuscation,

a bureaucrat’s penstroke

of directives. Colour it

the sunset cocktail

western reflections flitting

between skyscrapers and clouds

so that the east shone a hue

of Blakean presence

 

such tiger-orange clouds

that grasped reality

I could not wait for words

I snapped

I reached for the ubiquitous

phone and snapped, I snapped

just to add colour. Amid the traffic

how I could roar, roar away

the work day

 

 

 

 

Copyrighted by the author

 

Clouds and Bromeliads

 

Clouds grow; set free to arc the sky

Light sweeps from the setting sun

And the rising moon, a titan’s night

The autumn equinox defining similitude.

Then home to definition and invention

And bromeliads. A dark space transformed

By cream and green, as bright a sight

To sow delight as only nature brings.

 

Copyrighted by the author