Wednesday, December 14, 2011
WINDOW FACE
the curtain swings open
I look out
it's blurred out there
most likely ghosts
nothing I want to see
I see rage
the window slams shut
the luminous lift off occurs
it's full of red space
I see nothing
then I see red
the window slowly opens
then quickly closes
I see the blurred reflection
stopping and looking
a non being image appears
listless falling color bomb
standing in front of a canvas
personifying his color red
bleeding
the face of Mark Rothko
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6 comments:
Wayne, so you saw, Mark Rothko? Interesting indeed. Nice one.
Cheers,
Pamela
I am fascinated with the specific people everyone is seeing in the image. Brings an extra dimension to the poem.
margo
I have heard it said, although I am not an expert or entirely sure of what I heard, that the art of Marcus Rothkowitz was partly based in his ability to translate Nietzsche into expressionism. Have you, Wayne, been doing the same thing with your poetry? You are a master of the mystical and, I like the way you expressed your vision.
Regards,
Donald
All the poems to this prompt are incredibly varied Yours is no exception - Mark Rothko indeed? I thought more of a view from a Hopper café!
intriguing...i can see a bit of a face in there...a color bomb nice....
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