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Cape of the bullfighter,
flung up in the air.
Wrinkles of velvet
whoosh.
Geisha's lips,
exaggerated pout
lines filled in with color.
Circles of henna,
drawn on a young girl's hands,
smooth and pale,
at a marriage mendhi ceremony
in India.
Gowns of Buddhist monks,
gracefully draped around their shoulders,
all in a line,
a snake crawling along the dirt road.
Mars glows red,
with spots of black intermingled within,
poses like a doughnut in mid-air.
Ink of the tatoo,
along one side of his arm,
a backdrop for the art within,
pricks of blood long gone.
The pot held by Sadhus in India,
stands out among the torn rags.
Roses, starting to dry,
the color a soft, suede red.
Blood,
mixed with maize and millet,
drunk by a Surma boy
in South Ethiopia,
his skin gray with dust,
feet bare and poor,
elbows worn.
Glowing embers of
lava flow from a volcano in Hawaii,
palm trees wait below.
Temple at Hardiwar,
standing tall,
a contrast among the clouds.
The neon sign
softly blinking
"come here, come here".
First published in Voices Magazine, 2003.
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Brilliant!!!!!!!! You paint a beautiful poem.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Love and peace,
Regis
((Hugs And Love, JoAnne ))