Apologies

This is my first apology to you all. That last sorry excuse for a poem was an eyesore and a nightmare encourager. If you suffered any jet lag or nausea from it, I will properly refund you with 'Tums' or 'Alka-Seltzer'. I understand that they all can't be winners or gems, but damn. Those were rusted, jagged, scratched and worn twice to the junior prom!

It was reminiscent of my pubescent age where everything was doom and gloom and I thought every billowy metaphor would get me in the poetry magazines. I thought I had learned by lesson but reality bites me in the butt now and again. Lesson learned. I still have along way to go as a writer.

But, hey! I rebound and create something a little more worthwhile. I hope that you find this poem a bit more pleasing. I have to thank Catherine Connor for getting be started on several ideas. She graciously burned me a CD that is quite magical. It helped me write a little more and a little better just because the tunes are so happy. I ask everyone to listen to Regina Spektor's songs "The Sword and the Pen" and "The Genius Next Door". I also encourage you to listen to "The Dog Days" by Florence and the Machine. I defy you to find a happier song.

In short... Something better than last time.

Watercolors

Grass tickles and itches my back
And I squirm, uncomfortable in my skin.
Earth fills my lungs and I exhale the flowers.
Color fills my eyes and butterflies my stomach.

The surrealist skies bear down on me.
Clouds like giant air balloons race to the setting sun.
The racers hold their caps as the basket breaks.
The finish line is close at hand.

Pointillist pebbles nudge my spine.
Each sharp edge digs into my pliant flesh
To create a new and improved picture.
I am a distinctive new canvas for the world.

Impressionistic orange covers the water top.
The fish inside dot the water like dim stars.
They swim back to their mothers to sleep.
Those lucky to live will fight tomorrow.

And as lie within the shadows,
My mind drifts off across the seas.
And my toes brush across the green.
To stretch as far as they can reach.

My thoughts become abstract
And my features the expressionism.
These illuminated ideas knot together
Until they make a haze of peace.

I am but one paint stroke to the mountains;
Blending into the grass and hills.
My body weaves to the bigger picture.
Realism has never seemed so tangible.