Stormy sky
rain pounding down,
coming in heavy sheets.
A break from the torrent comes
but with this pause comes the onset of fog.
Sticky and muggy air.
The sky becomes bruised,
beat up by the gods high above.
They will never be satisfied.
The day comes to a close,
the gods sleep soundly.
A new day appears,
repeating a cycle of anger and hatred.
Rain
Fog
Bruised
This time it can take no more.
Holding on by a single thread,
the sky takes a breath.
Remembering the happy days,
then… dies.
Nothing,
except space
that the sky one took over was left behind.
-
Author:
M.E.M. (
Offline) - Published: July 14th, 2021 08:52
- Comment from author about the poem: Inspired by Mark Rothko’s painting at the Rothko Chapel. The photo provided is of the paintings at the Rothko Chapel. Poem created in 2018. Comments Welcome.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 37
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses, L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments2
Paintings provided by Dulux colour swashes? There's far more depth in your poem than in those pictures. My eye.
firstly, I agree with Dusk
I too, couldn't find the contextual correlation
between your words and the painting/picture..
but that's truly meaningless, in this case
because I found your writing, a stand alone
immersive read of insightfully nuanced artistry:
'A new day appears, repeating
a cycle of anger and hatred.
Rain
Fog
Bruised
This time it can take no more.
Holding on by a single thread,
the sky takes a breath.'
such a joy to read, dear poet
thank you for choosing to share
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