Repainting My Soul by Michael Anderson
I offer her my blue,
The sadness on my soul.
For all I hold as true-
Stems from this endless hole.
The wake of shadowed tears-
To forgone self- esteem.
Flowing in fleeting years,
A river of lost dream.
She offers me her blue,
A tender midnight kiss.
Awakening anew-
Beyond Pain's chrysalis.
A butterfly in view,
New dream set free in flight.
She offers me her blue,
Sadness becomes delight.
I offer her my green,
The stain of broken trust.
With nothing left to glean,
Dried hands sifting through dust.
Counting the blessings first,
Weighed against my own need.
I proffer up the worst,
Challenge the world's greed.
She offers me her green,
The forest's sweet perfume.
An ever- crystalline-
Vision of dogwood bloom.
My gypsy and my queen,
Chasing petals adrift.
She offers me her green,
My greed becomes my gift.
I offer her my red,
Bricks stacked to form a wall.
With emotion laid dead-
Inside, to hide from all.
A man molding vision,
In heart, in hope, cast blind.
Forming the great prison-
Of my subconscious mind.
She offers me her red,
The petals of a rose.
Lays me in Love's own bed,
Emotion overflows
Passion given full- fled,
Past the world's white glove.
She offers me her red,
My hate becomes my love.
The sadness on my soul.
For all I hold as true-
Stems from this endless hole.
The wake of shadowed tears-
To forgone self- esteem.
Flowing in fleeting years,
A river of lost dream.
She offers me her blue,
A tender midnight kiss.
Awakening anew-
Beyond Pain's chrysalis.
A butterfly in view,
New dream set free in flight.
She offers me her blue,
Sadness becomes delight.
I offer her my green,
The stain of broken trust.
With nothing left to glean,
Dried hands sifting through dust.
Counting the blessings first,
Weighed against my own need.
I proffer up the worst,
Challenge the world's greed.
She offers me her green,
The forest's sweet perfume.
An ever- crystalline-
Vision of dogwood bloom.
My gypsy and my queen,
Chasing petals adrift.
She offers me her green,
My greed becomes my gift.
I offer her my red,
Bricks stacked to form a wall.
With emotion laid dead-
Inside, to hide from all.
A man molding vision,
In heart, in hope, cast blind.
Forming the great prison-
Of my subconscious mind.
She offers me her red,
The petals of a rose.
Lays me in Love's own bed,
Emotion overflows
Passion given full- fled,
Past the world's white glove.
She offers me her red,
My hate becomes my love.
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Rating: N/A |
Emotion is often related to color, when we are sad we are said to feel "blue", when we are angry we see "red", etc. When I set out to write this poem, it was to be entitled "Colors" and describe purely what certain colors meant to me. In describing what I was writing to a dear friend, she shared with me her perceptions of the same colors I was writing of. I realized then colors weren't just about emotions at this point, mixed together, they become a portrait of the soul. This love poem compares two vantage points of colors to describe how one person's individual love has covered the deepest scars of a blemished past, given new hope, made me to see through untainted eyes, and truly repainted my soul.
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Lovely and very thought provoking. Thank you. - shauna |
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Wow, that's all i got to say is wow. that was realy good it juz says alot u kno! - Amber |
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michael, i just have to say that i have read *every* single one of your poems pposted on this site and i loved them all. you're an amazing poet, and your works are quite possibly the best i've ever read. they tell stories, use vivid description of what you see and feel, making the reader see and feel with you. not easily achieved by people and it makes you poetry truly unique. - tiffany |
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One of the best poems I've ever read in my life. Truly meaningful! - Marion |
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i really liked all the descriptive words in this poem. it was such a good analogy, haha i'm not sure if that is the right word for it but the comparison is good. I usually am attracted to sad poems so the happiness in this one makes it stand out to me. - julie |
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Thank you. - Hayley |
