"discolors" poems
Nature, that wahed her hands in milk,
And had forgot to dry them,
Instead of earth took snow and silk,
At Love’s request to try them,
If she a mistress could compose
To please Love’s fancy out of those.
Her eyes he would should be of light,
A violet breath, and lips of jelly;
Her hair not black, nor overbright,
And of the softest down her belly;
As for her inside he’d have it
Only of wantonness and wit.
At Love’s entreaty such a one
Nature made, but with her beauty
She hath fram’d a heart of stone;
So as Love, by ill destiny,
Must die for her whom Nature gave him
Because her darling would not save him.
But Time, which Nature doth despise
And rudely gives her love the lie,
Makes hope a fool, and sorrow wise,
His hands do neither wash nor dry;
But being made of steel and rust,
Turns snow and silk and milk to dust.
The light, the belly, lips, and breath,
He dims, discolors, and destroys;
With those he feeds but fills not death,
Which sometimes were the food of joys.
Yea, Time doth dull each lively wit,
And dries all wantonness with it.
Oh, cruel Time, which takes in trust
Our youth, or joys, and all we have,
And pays us but with age and dust;
Who in the dark and silent grave
When we have wandered all our ways
Shuts up the story of our days.
2.4k
A memory so old, turned to sepia
From the pigmentation of Time
Losing all defining boundaries
As the album pages become dog eared
Due to long years of reminiscing
The moments shared together
A happy snapshot, now fading away
Can’t recall anymore on introspection
The album full of memories
Black and white turns to sepia
And ravages of time discolors
Once colorful moments
Captured only in black and white
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
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.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
Its not the trains, cars
and planes.
Those are 'time earned' receipts.
And are only fit for odors of the feet,
and wearying,
as a whole.
Leaving home tears, every time;
waving at the those I precede, as they
station behind.
My back stays sweaty,
my pockets: empty.
Confused by an unaffixed passage of hours,
I often wonder, Who's my mind?
and where did the 'I', I know, go?
My heights look down on
the clouds!
but the depths grab listless by the hand and
take a stroll.
I don't recognize the crowds.
the Hellos or Goodbyes.
My clothes seem not to match,
and to my shoes Use, has been most unkind.
The befriended hat, discolors,
loved by sun and dirt.
My handkerchief a blithe display
just visible from under my shirt.
Then, with tiresome aches,
a new land introduces me
to its beloved scribes, writers,
poets and someones,
and we shake hands.
Inspired,
beatified,
within;
I am recalled to clarity,
and why I have traveled
so far.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 6:39 PM UTC