A Painted Sky




Sky the colour of wet slate, clouds like smudged chalk, up to the demarcation of a double rainbow.
Beyond this: perfect edged white, cyanine stillness.

Other words, immaterial: other frescos, outshone.
Nature flummoxes with a magnitude we can only faintly sketch.
I attempt to describe a feeling of symbiotic absorption. Cross out notes, words are too clumsy. Allude to a space behind words, a silent resonance.

Rain gathers, confers; at the right density, it drops.  



Comments

  1. Geo.5 November 2012 at 01:37

    Now you've got me wondering if there's a saturation point to the soul. Thanks for one of the finest pieces of writing I ever saw.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Lisa Southard5 November 2012 at 21:48

    A saturation point for the soul? That is something to think on, Geo! I'm inclined to say yes, I feel like this might be true. And thank you for a fine comment :-)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Friko11 November 2016 at 19:58

    Come and paint my Shropshire/Welsh border sky; your palette need only contain shades of grey. Perhaps you can make a grey poem from it?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lisa Southard12 November 2016 at 09:20

      Hello Friko :-) Grey is a much underestimated colour. Today my little Cornish world is sunk in mist, it's beautiful! x

      Delete

Post a Comment

Thank you for reading my words- my chance to read yours here:

Popular posts from this blog

A Candle Lit

Image
We live by the light of those we love, whether they are here or gone. That light is inextinguishable. To have the light and not the company is an adjustment process we call grief. Loss is a shadow, equal to the light. We adjust not to lose the shadow but to see both. Hard to bear - yet without darkness, light cannot show its full wonder. Let us look after each other, then, and value our days, our company, and live to leave vast shadows, and understand that pain is a strange gift, a tender, haunting, purposed gift. And if you are grieving: let your tears flow, let your anger shout, let yourself plead and deny and feel terrible: it is not an easy process.  Know that other people know grief.  Know that other people are hurt to see you grieve.  Know that love is a fundamental response. There is no time limit to this adjustment process. No right or wrong way to feel. One day you will stand back and see that the shadow is proof to the strength of the light, a
Read more

Light On Our Feet With Good News

Image
Friday 23rd April 2021 We go into Launceston town, park in the long stay because all parking is free until May 17th (when the hospitality industry restarts). We are early and Mr’s knee hurts so we pick a charity shop without stairs; Mr buys a faux leather jacket, I pick out a summery top. Bargains curled in hand as neither of us has a bag, we find our way to the office and ask for our trainee solicitor, a young chap in a slouchy silvery suit. He comes out of a meeting, nervous, finds an empty room, and we follow him in. There’s a big blue folder of searches and enquiries which we look through, young chap jabbing a finger at relevant bits, his hands are not steady. We think the paperwork is probably satisfactory but this is new territory so it’s all leap of faith stuff - deep breath, take up the pen, sign. We leave the signatures, take the folder, and our bargains, go to Barnecutts and choose a bun each. I pick a plain chelsea, Mr goes for a rocky road. Celebratory carbs that we c
Read more