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Hayley Jan 2015
we cannot be rid of our Shadows,
our Shadows will always lie behind us,
our pasts are Shadows we can't escape

even though the Shadows are not always in sight,
they never leave us

our Shadows, our pasts, are always a part of us,
like in this,
the Shadow of the bird's beak seems to be the beak itself

the outline around this bird resembles a pedestal, raising this dead dove above the ground

the darkness of the bird itself makes you see the Shadows as a part of it

I can hear the waves just beyond

the bird was so beautiful, and now it's dead

I wonder what it looked like flying. . .
I went to the Art Institute of Chicago the other day. I was looking up pieces before I went, and found one that inspired this poem.
"Portrait of a Sea Dove - Dead" by Marsden Hartley.
The URL: http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/65945
Art is so beautiful
Marieta Maglas Nov 2014
Van Gogh wanted to mix a material rainbow of colors
From primary red, yellow and blue in the sense of divine.
In the Holy Light, the love time of the flower clock discolors.
The empty glasses on the tables lack the Holy wine.

The ideal round tables assume their infinite regress,
While huddling down in a stupor the lonely men around.
Their eyes do not see the sense of life and true noblesse.
From a corner view, silent colors search for the sound.

Tables for awakening, for life and for the fate's game.
In life, a complete circled awareness needs time.
In many forms, the epitome of tableness is the same.
It keeps a purple silence for the painted mother of thyme.


This irreconcilable demon -woman hung on the left wall
Needs that freedom engraved on the emerald green door.
The watch on her hand shows the time for a masked ball.
Destined never to meet are the parallel lines on the floor.

Love is for completing the time as pink is for the emerald green.
In the mirror, this nuance of green reflects the sadness of life.
Against the red, pink and white, in games, the cue tip can lean,
Because all the main complementary colors are at strife.

The white coat of the waiter is a symbol in the glow of the lamp.
The perspective looks somewhat downward toward the floor.
Extending to new dimensions, Eve sits or she just up to vamp.
The flowers wither and the life disappears after an endless war.

— The End —