#chiaroscuro - Hello Poetry

Catch me slipping in a Chiaroscuro Caravaggio paints A light in the dark of you--in depth in form as it feints Strong contrast, emotional intensity, faces in the black, Emerge in me at night truth in shadows pleasure rack, One makes the other visible, on the other side of hope, Pale skin on caramel waves that twist us inside a rope, Blurring round the edges, differences, gradients inside Tight unwary voices merged your sides to sides abide, In the grounded forms shapes that color us in disarray A white in the black of you, churning us inside a gray, I finally see contours in your light wrap & hold rebirth Transcendental dimensions smooth a soft shy a worth, Lay aside as the wind blows, our colors splash & pour, Touch inside our opposite, kiss the dawn in us Amore.

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Apr 16

Apr 16, 2026 at 8:22 AM UTC

DarrellBaughn

Faces in the Black

Catch me slipping in a Chiaroscuro Caravaggio paints A light in the dark of you--in depth in form as it feints Strong contrast, emotional intensity, faces in the black, Emerge in me at night truth in shadows pleasure rack, One makes the other visible, on the other side of hope, Pale skin on caramel waves that twist us inside a rope, Blurring round the edges, differences, gradients inside Tight unwary voices merged your sides to sides abide, In the grounded forms shapes that color us in disarray A white in the black of you, churning us inside a gray, I finally see contours in your light wrap & hold rebirth Transcendental dimensions smooth a soft shy a worth, Lay aside as the wind blows, our colors splash & pour, Touch inside our opposite, kiss the dawn in us Amore.

14

They say demons should be exorcised They say in the dark lurks evils They say in your soul should be nothing but light That washed out is better than chiaroscuro. They say all these things But what do they know, these people who live in the grey? My muses are demons My pen is a knife My life is much better With black ink in my veins I suppose if their minds were to open We'd all be exactly the same; A world full of demon filled people With eyes open wide Drawing beauty from shade.

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Oct 11, 2018

Oct 11, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC

ManiacoRisa

Chiaroscuro

They say demons should be exorcised They say in the dark lurks evils They say in your soul should be nothing but light That washed out is better than chiaroscuro. They say all these things But what do they know, these people who live in the grey? My muses are demons My pen is a knife My life is much better With black ink in my veins I suppose if their minds were to open We'd all be exactly the same; A world full of demon filled people With eyes open wide Drawing beauty from shade.

26

Lost in my chiaroscuro world I cannot be followed No-one knows my secret language No-one knows my passwords or my frames of reference Everything said, is coded. In desperate times speech becomes pure sound rhythmic and completely foreign People can make out words but they have no context George, Jean, Martin Arthur, Margaret Names like rays on a compass They were my world of visible magnetic forces I could no more abandon them than rearrange the continents. But you can learn when the old geography is too painfully familiar not to abandon it But simply invent a country of your own. A landscape beyond maps, compasses and sextant Beyond a dictionary of common usage and invented diction. You can search but the unseen patterns of dreaming are as easy to find. Isolated, distant language fractures and returns to you words are breaking the barrier reef an exile in a shadow land. The damage grows inside sensed but unseen seeping into crevices like moss and lichen gripping spreading and creeping a spiked vine flaring down to the tongue. © M.L.Emmett

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Feb 23, 2016

Feb 23, 2016 at 7:59 AM UTC

magicpoet01

Lost

Lost in my chiaroscuro world I cannot be followed No-one knows my secret language No-one knows my passwords or my frames of reference Everything said, is coded. In desperate times speech becomes pure sound rhythmic and completely foreign People can make out words but they have no context George, Jean, Martin Arthur, Margaret Names like rays on a compass They were my world of visible magnetic forces I could no more abandon them than rearrange the continents. But you can learn when the old geography is too painfully familiar not to abandon it But simply invent a country of your own. A landscape beyond maps, compasses and sextant Beyond a dictionary of common usage and invented diction. You can search but the unseen patterns of dreaming are as easy to find. Isolated, distant language fractures and returns to you words are breaking the barrier reef an exile in a shadow land. The damage grows inside sensed but unseen seeping into crevices like moss and lichen gripping spreading and creeping a spiked vine flaring down to the tongue. © M.L.Emmett

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