The colour sad
The tapestry of life is rich in hueIt's colours splashed in gaudy disarray
Yet mine is tinged with overmuch of blue
And not one I would with pride to you display
The canvas of my life is old with time
Its profile scarred and torn with too much age
Yet within are treads of paint so rich and fine
To temper those depicting heart of rage
I view the canvas in totality
Observing colours painted long ago
And smile to see the colour honesty
When my heart was young and pure as driven snow
I see the swirl of anger at me stare
Composed of thoughts I in truth no longer feel
And yellow speckles hiding here and there
The coward within that did my courage steal
I see the colour love throughout it all
And yes I did include the love of self
That wretched ego's colour would appal
Yet it still sits close at hand upon the shelf
And as I viewed the canvas on it's rest
I saw in stark relief the colour sad
With brush in hand I obliterate with zest
And search in vain to find the colour mad
Brendan.
Poetry by Brendan Finbarr Tully
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Written on 2006-04-27 at 22:47
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