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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1101826-An-Oil-Painting
Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1101826
My T.S. Eliot inspired poem.
So let us go then, you and I,
But without the evening.
Instead with painted stars on a canvas
Of dark black paint, thick and long strokes
On a huge white canvas, our evening
Existing in two dimensions, ceasing to appease the senses
Beyond our brains comprehensions and yet smelling
Like oil paints.

So let us go then,
To write words deleting apprehensions,
Eliminate comprehensions and spread ourselves across the sky.
Forgetting parties with men who don’t exist
In some universe close by, expanding the possibilities by
Limiting our capabilities and making wishes on weeds,
Blowing cotton to the summer sky
A sacrifice to false gods, praying for
The evening, with lights that don’t exist.

So let us go then,
Slip through the cracks of the day and fall upon
This canvas, fall into the evening and turn our hearts around.
Dancing on the strokes of laughter, forgetting parties and smells
And men dressed in suits, sparkling wine and turpentine,
Dancing music and raucous laughter,
Remembering, forgetting, remembering, forgetting,
There shall be none of that here on this painting as
We’re all really waiting for the dark of the evening tainting
The sun.

So let us go then, you and I,
Without the evening by our sides,
To remind us why we live and die.
© Copyright 2006 Bridget Shinagawa (b-ridge at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1101826-An-Oil-Painting