the canvas
blank—
gesso gestation—
awaiting the birth
of first color.
i swipe.
the stroke streaks black.
black?
i swoosh down,
brush stroke success—
but for the
black.
i swish and swash,
swipe and swoop
with every color I can scoop—
an event on the horizon—
blistering and burnt
bubbling within—
the festering foundation
swallows us all in
black.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, November 12, 2025.
Tittu
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: November 12th, 2025 09:40
- Comment from author about the poem: I’m now published in an anthology featuring authors from across the Poconos, PA. All proceeds benefit the Pocono Liars Club — a collective of authors and editors dedicated to supporting and mentoring local writers. Available in paperback and Kindle, please consider purchasing one and supporting a great cause. https://a.co/d/58uxM69
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
- Users favorite of this poem: Paul Bell, Salvia.S
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Comments7
Doh! Turn a light on. Can't see a thing in all that blackness. And Popeye and Co can't see to.... don't finish that! lol.
💡 🥬 🤮😱 ⚫️
Now that Ol' Henry Ford didn't give us, or rather you in USA, much choice with his cars - 'You can have any colour as long as it's black'. Doh!
My friend Orchi… you got me laughing. Henry Ford would feel right at home in this poem’s universe…everything reduced to black no matter what you reach for. Maybe Popeye should steer clear of this canvas too… the darkness might swallow even his glug glug. Thanks, as always, for the laugh...my friend! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️
It seems strange, but when colour photos came in it was a revelation.
Now we all go back to black for nostalgia, though I might look better in black and white.
Paul, I feel that…something about stripping color away makes everything feel sharper, more honest. Appreciate you being here, my friend. 🖤🕳️🕯️🙏
Loved this one Tristan that highlights the lack of change despite effort. Black such a good choice that as we know it the sum total of all colors in pigment and the absence of color in light. Well done
Soren, I love how you framed black as both everything and nothing…that’s the whole heart of it. Really appreciate your eye, my friend. 🖤🕳️🕯️🙏
You are most welcome Tristan
Don't knock black too hard Tristan - I couldn't scribe this without it's services. Just put it in the naughty corner until it behaves itself...🙃
Dave, you’re right…black carries half my writing life. This one just let me play with its shadows a bit on a canvas. As for the color itself, I may not sing classic country moving like a chugging train, but it is about all I wear...ever. Thanks again, my dear friend! 🖤🕳️🕯️🙏
Take it easy, mate.🙏
I recently saw this video of this man who paints in only black--he uses the way the light reflects off of different stroke angles to show a picture. Anyway, black does seem to be one of those universal thoughts and feelings
Whoa! Neat! I'll have to discover him. Indeed, it is. Thank you so much, my friend for getting it and for the neat connection to that artist. Much appreciated! 🖤🕳️🕯️🙏
Of course!
Oh no! A certain glugging guy has popped in again to one of your recent poems. He knows what to paint. What is it? Don't answer that! lol.
Is it sleeting out? Good thing I brought a brolly! ☔️
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