Brunneous

A Poem by writerpenname

Just thoughts on beauty

Brown. Brown eyes. Brown hair. Pale brown skin. In magazines and television the people often have an entire palette of color in their coloring. Hair and eyes sparkling with mountain streams or conifers, stony jewels and precious metals. But not I. The painter only the range of one color. Brown. One plain and common place color. Brown. Like a female bird of the amazon, my coloring holds no place against the vibrant and iridescent feathers of the male birds of paradise. Each flamboyant creature has a practical pair. A spectator to pass judgment but never to put on a show. To be entertained never to entertain. But we birds of skin can paint ourselves a new, if we wish camouflage the common place with something more exciting. Even the birds of paradise hide their true feathers beneath a more homely varnish. Scorn the original artist, the birds of skin have seized the brush and paint, and work, and work at themselves. Children that hurry to spill as much pigment as possible on the starch white canvas that they see in the mirror. I for one prefer my own rainbow of brown.

© 2013 writerpenname

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falling_toxic_rain

ah, structure makes it seem as if it is train of thought, it kind of sounds like it but I'm not sure if you have put more thought into it or not. Interesting topic, I've only come across minimal people to hold same thoughts as you do, for that I give you props.
good write.
-rain