misanthrope

When my pictures, before changed,

their lines defined,

their colors bright

and crayons crisp and pointed rounded

in the tastes of spring and autumn,

my heart then knew their subjects.

When my pictures, after my mind 

confabulated with my age,

the youth of my canvas waxed corrugated;

it is now my fingers edifying my mind

and my heart is broken,

for their subjects are torn 

from it's cherished felicitation,

its spring now summer and scorching,

its fall now winter and barren.

I have witnessed too many homelands

withering in the summer,

indigenous folk strangling in buckthorns,

children starving and alone,

widows frozen in vacant stares.

My religion was variegated and springtime,

now a militant, political olive drab

shaded with war and terror and confusion.

My government was royal blue,

now white is tinted to sickly pale of distrust,

and red to rust like bodies oxidizing into rancid meat, 

dying like a battle on foreign land.

 

My fellows were prismatic when they smiled,

now shadows of menfolk with smoky, collapsing lungs,

strangling from lack of peace.

When my pictures were still fresh 

their azure skies lifted my smiling heart,

pigments of daffodil and rhododendron

laced my pallet fondly.

But now my colors tear stained run,

my lines hard contrasting restraints,

there is no room for aborted sentiments.

Is it yet unrealistic

to expect my children 

to color the world,

before they learn to see it?

Reviews

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

No time would be complete without me returning to the library ...turning a page to one of my favorites!

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

I collapse like a tired lover...you never tell me what I want to hear...you write out what we must all know to gather courage...looking straight into the face of it.I hear You whisper in my ear...never let it see your fear. I turn to you...and whisper back..the only thing I fear is your magic.

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

I need to sit here in the arms of your poetry...if you don't mind...manipulating my fingers through yours to remember what it feels like to write. To remember what it feels like to have my mind stroked and my soul parched... just for a moment or an eternity ...

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

I am always draw back to this place....I guess it's the wind sending me messages;)

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

It's just me, here once again digging through the box of crayons....waiting for tomorrow:)

[Beccy]

Children should remain such for as long as possible. Harsh reality is never more than a footstep away and no matter how hard we try, life will eventually dull those bright colours.

Fascinating poetry.

Beccy.

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

Just here, re - reading one of my many favorites. :) the lines catch in my throat and the emotion burns each time....but what a wonder that I can feel it....taste it...hear it... in every line....always.

[Claire in VA]

How profound and utterly true.
There are so many levels to your mind.

[Vidya Bacchus]

Life has changed so much from how it was.Things that used to matter don't anymore and you wonder if our children never experienced them how can they ever appreciate them .Excellent poetry there Xavier :)

[Corset]

from your lips to God's ears, the state the world is in today can one ounce of love and life be wasted on warring and the foolishment of money mongers, You have an incredible voice, I have to thank Queenie for referring you. wonderful poetry with something amazing inside like cracker jacks. Are all the best poets from VA? hardly, but from the look of this a great many do spawn there, I've been there once, it is magical there...so green it tears the eyes.

[Corset]

ps, I love your auther's notes, cracked me up. wonderful, John Deere rocks the tractor world.