Paint me pretty, paint me bright,
Capture me in this adoring light.
Wish as you may, wish as you might,
Thing will never be as they are tonight.
Baby blue, cotton candy pink,
A yellow that pales next to my smile, you think.
Never a portrait, always a scene,
Easier to forget if I'm just a color scheme.
Lavender because it's my favorite scent,
Green to reflect how my irises glint.
Willows, weeping, for all that's been lost,
A field once vast now covered in frost.
When they look at the paintings what do they see?
Water lilies and bridges, never me.
Try as they will, try as they might,
only love makes you wonder at this sight.

Surrealist Cut-up

            them of drooping
perspective        them blue water lilies,
    branches      boughs,    the blue      wavering
illuminated that window  is causing These the stars
                      in moonlight, to shiver;   late in
a ripple,     then, blooming
The clouds, sky,    tither.

Figurative-Literal**

These the stars then, blooming
late in the blue sky,
a ripple is causing them to shiver;
The clouds, perspective
branches of drooping boughs,
that window them
blue water lilies, illuminated
in moonlight, wavering tither.

Surrealist Cut-up

pouring in together in the cold,              huddled
in              the harvest Grain-stacks, on the farm
from the palms.          gathered
heavens for Thanking gradient mist
    clenched  the earth in        evening skies;

Figurative-Literal**

Grain-stacks, huddled together in cold,
gathered on the farm
in gradient mist pouring in
from the evening skies;
Thanking heavens for the harvest
the earth in clenched palms.

Surrealist Cut-up

    boatman       Purple haze
contemplative pouring
the sky as lone
              rides the horizon.
       islanding
into the lake,

Cubist

Arc to the horizon
apparition, brooding figure,
a form rides in twilight haze
junction of the worlds
into a slither of light.

Literal**

Purple haze islanding the sky
pouring into the lake,
as lone boatman
rides contemplative
into the horizon.

Surrealist Cut-up

      lotus pond lonely on the bridge
verdant in spring    still in the    garden

Literal Figurative**

Lonely bridge on the lotus pond
in the still garden verdant in spring

Shifting gears
Revolutions near

Red line absorption
In blue sky spectrums

Characterizing wave~particle
Photonic duality

Designating principals
Using dark features

Coinciding emissions
With elemental missions

Broad strokes
Masking narrow bands

Of water lilies

Forehead sore, striving to hold my irises unstrained
I see through the rays, red, blue, and white snapping in the wind
Casting flickering shadows upon the women in frocks of lighter pinks and turquoise
Just like that of the channel waters through which my bow cuts cleanly
Rudders portside, ropes knotted on hand
My lady and I dock, a gentleman all in black ready to oblige her graceful hand
Two cheeks dampened with a kiss’ moment later
A glance welcomes the uniform balconies which wrap around curved corners,
Double windows, and modest roofs that mirror extravagant ceilings
Onward we stride to our night time lodging where the dormant flares shall ignite
We celebrate our ought’ve been loss of virtues
And gain of not one golden band, but two

Sat by the windows tall
Grey clouded light hazes through to illuminate the wonders
The irreplaceable structures, swatches, and swiping, scraping of a tireless hand
Surrounded by the obvious subject, yet unlike those who amble, I choose to see  
Paint pots and brushes of many men perch upon easels so used, a coins thickness of murky product builds its height, topped with splashes of clear reds, browns, and whites                        
Yet no art is to be fashioned from what has been once made, made again    
And so, my back in the dark of the pristine portraits and angels flying high, I see      
And what I see becomes my obsession
Frantic strokes upon a canvas rush to convey a fleeting moment of beauty
Colours so alive they cannot be restrained by careful handiwork, feelings so joyous they demand to be felt, untainted
And so I work as to appease them  
And though I live like the sky
Light flirting in and out, captivating my soul, only to hide recluse  behind the clouds and southern hemisphere  
I hope my labour keeps the skies of some souls clear
And that will be enough