I’m No Picasso

I wish I could paint

but with colour I am
green skies
purple roofs
grey sunsets

With a brush I am
outside the boundaries
over the edge

On canvas I am
blobs
Wiggles
Spills

In oils I am

sliding



In acrylic I am

sticking



In water I am

running



In pastels I am

smudged



I could not arrest you

with my scenery

Nor plant you amongst poppies



I could not

catch your eye with my eyes



My clocks would not

ooze

they would fall



My portraits would not

look like the man

Any man




My still lives would sit

listlessly



My Coca-Cola would be

flat



My baked beans

has beans



Nothing I paint would

leap from the canvass

to stimulate your imagination

or make it live



But all is not lost



 With words I can



Paint you a sunset
or grow you a tree



Splash colour across

your hopelessness



In time I can

trip you over a crinoline

constrict you in a corset

or stagger you on your first high heels



I can twenties flap you

fifties rock you

sixties roll you

or nineties rap you



I can take you walking

along leafy lanes

splattered with sunlight



I can stroll you

along a beach


I can place the sound of the surf

deep within your imagination

for later



I can swim you

In cool grey seas

tumble you under frothing waves

sweep you safely

back onto the beach



Take you

home



I can heat you

on a cold day



And freeze you

on a hot day



With my words 



you can 



walk on snow

too deep to walk on



Feel mountain breezes

caress you



Smell the cleanness

inhale the newness


touch the sky



Or you
we
I



can sit by a lake

aware of the depths

at our feet


Too scared to dip a toe

too frightened to swim

But we can still sit



still



Together





Deb Hawken

Sometime the last century