Yellow

She set off on her own adventure.

Her sails were Vincent Van Gogh’s favorite acrylic

Yellow like the sunshine, and yellow like the head of an uncanny pinprick

They rose, fell: ever changing to the moods of the brewing tide,

Billowing with the burden of the weightless air on her hide.

Her outside layered in walls; old oaks with too many rings to count

And varnished walnut, nailed to her chest to keep out the salt.

 

She set off one sunrise after the restless night

The ropes which held her pulled in splintered twine, and gone,

The posts which kept the whips of light contained from the night afore.

The nostalgic thread of sea in intermittent laps against her side,

The thunder beating in her breast, the echoes shook the fear that soon awoke to rest.

 

Gone, she knew; the anchor which held her tight to the safety of the shore,

And gone, the vicious sailor who tended to her, nursing captive with no cure.

She was aloft in hues of greens and blues, the threads in her sails all thinning

Those tired yellow sails cold stay afloat, but lost billows in the sinning.

 

She bravely drifted; alone, with no companion or crew

‘Twas better to starve in nails and wood then be forced to share the gloom

Because those sunshine sails littered His sulky sea of simile

No glimmer of difference belonged in the veins of Blue’s family.

 

As sets and rises became no longer distinguished, the turning tides then lost their patience.
Her stern fell silent, the waves grew stagnant,

The hot air mingled with salt and sea,

the current tore her yellow apart.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a very talented writer. The poem had the feel of life, journey and search for proper place. The flow of thoughts took the reader in and the words held them. The poem open the doors to questions and thoughts. A worthwhile read. Thank you for sharing the outstanding poetry.
Coyote