Shown: posts 1 to 5 of 5. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Atticus on July 27, 2005, at 9:17:33
Walking watercolor,
Faint brushstroke
Drawn along
A city street.
Shifting pastel
Awash in motion
Glides along
The cracked concrete.
Her pale skirt
A swatch of yellow
Pigment draped
O’er sandled feet.
And you gaze in
Wonder at this
Vision, phantom
Memory so sweet.
Think of days she
Strolled to greet you
At that café
Where you’d meet,
Amid the street show
Of the Village,
Where ghostly
Beats sip tea in seats.
But the painting
Went unfinished,
Now an image
Fading, in retreat.
Still sometimes
Your mind’s eye
Wields a brush,
And paints her petite
Form across an
Empty chair there,
A composition
At last complete.
Posted by sleepygirl on July 28, 2005, at 18:56:35
In reply to Walking Watercolor, posted by Atticus on July 27, 2005, at 9:17:33
"beats sip tea in seats"-that was an interesting sentence :-)
Posted by Atticus on July 30, 2005, at 15:04:40
In reply to Re: Walking Watercolor, posted by sleepygirl on July 28, 2005, at 18:56:35
I like to imagine the ghosts of generations of Village bohemians like the Beat poets -- such as Ginsburg -- sitting around the sidewalk cafes, as ephemeral and translucent as wisps of steam, enjoying a cuppa and still taking it all in. Atticus
Posted by Bobby on July 31, 2005, at 20:19:58
In reply to Walking Watercolor, posted by Atticus on July 27, 2005, at 9:17:33
...One of my favorites. Well done.
Posted by Atticus on August 1, 2005, at 15:18:54
In reply to I think... » Atticus, posted by Bobby on July 31, 2005, at 20:19:58
Much appreciated. ;) Atticus
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