Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
SkloofenPoems
Red, blue, green, purple, black, and white water stained colors across paper then lifting and pulling and dragging away spirals. circles. round and round again clouds against green and blue skies and stars against soft velvet black I always wondered what pinned them in place maybe it's a thread, wounded tightly by god's hands. but maybe he pricked his finger on the thorn of the wheel and fell asleep for a thousand years these are the spirals, and the splatters of paint that calms the beating in my chest of the prisoner stuck in a cell, locked away redo it, restart it, spiral again over and over and over til the end soon i'll build a bridge, held up by the stars and from then comes the silver strings tied and knotted and tangled once more maybe I could untie it but my fingers get caught and up i'll go to the seat of the threading, then to the story of the loom while the god is still behind me sleeping or not.... maybe I could thread a little longer... i could wind spirals and spirals upon lives and lives and not just in deep red, on paper or stone or skin but spirals carved upon the sleeping god's bones
0
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 3:10 PM UTC
[Painting]
Red, blue, green, purple, black, and white water stained colors across paper then lifting and pulling and dragging away spirals. circles. round and round again clouds against green and blue skies and stars against soft velvet black I always wondered what pinned them in place maybe it's a thread, wounded tightly by god's hands. but maybe he pricked his finger on the thorn of the wheel and fell asleep for a thousand years these are the spirals, and the splatters of paint that calms the beating in my chest of the prisoner stuck in a cell, locked away redo it, restart it, spiral again over and over and over til the end soon i'll build a bridge, held up by the stars and from then comes the silver strings tied and knotted and tangled once more maybe I could untie it but my fingers get caught and up i'll go to the seat of the threading, then to the story of the loom while the god is still behind me sleeping or not.... maybe I could thread a little longer... i could wind spirals and spirals upon lives and lives and not just in deep red, on paper or stone or skin but spirals carved upon the sleeping god's bones
#spirals#painting#hobby#careful#sad
Skloofen
Written by
Skloofen
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 3:10 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem