Love the poem and am reminded, in your dancing paintbrush, of Harold and his purple crayon. He comes to mind often for myriad reasons, all of them anchored in cheerful creativity.
Oh, Harold! He and his crayon could liven up those boring buildings in all sorts of ways.
Thank you for reading, Elizabeth, and especially for noticing that conclusion. It slips in there at the end of the silliness, trying to say something but not making a lot of noise about it.
Today I have grey sky, grey street. Good thing i like grey. Touch of color - yellow house across the street, parked blue car. Paintbrush said that was enough..
The imaginary dancing paintbrush is surely a wonderful tool. I love the way you imagine carnival colors not only on the houses but in the sky itself.
However, I think if I were faced with beige walls, I would like to bribe my painter brother to deface them with a mural. I suspect that in his younger days he was something of a guerrilla graffiti artist, but now he's gone legit and mostly programs websites, but sometimes paints murals on commission. Or I suppose I could offer his services to my neighbors.
In my college days I once defaced a concrete wall with chalk offerings to the poetry gods, writing up bastardized lines of favorite poems. I was called onto the carpet by the college officials, but the chalk washed off eventually.
It is lovely when you can return to a poem that wasn't quite working and can finally see how to tweak here... and there... and finally achieve some satisfaction that maybe you've got it right. I think you have here. It dances, full of animation.
Nothing is beige forever. 💛
The sky knows!
Love the poem and am reminded, in your dancing paintbrush, of Harold and his purple crayon. He comes to mind often for myriad reasons, all of them anchored in cheerful creativity.
I also love your conclusion!
Oh, Harold! He and his crayon could liven up those boring buildings in all sorts of ways.
Thank you for reading, Elizabeth, and especially for noticing that conclusion. It slips in there at the end of the silliness, trying to say something but not making a lot of noise about it.
It was just right!
🙏🏼
"I stare into a monochrome morning
and picture a moment of cartoon magic,
an animated paintbrush dancing by
to quicken this bland beige canvas"
This gave me a delighted start of recognition. I'd forgotten about the cartoon paintbrush who could make so many things come true 💛.
Like remembering an old friend! I was thrilled when he showed up in the poem.
Thanks so much for reading and restacking and (always!) for writing, Margaret Ann.
I love this—and to include “aubergine” in a poem—so lovely.
The paintbrush wanted fancy names for its colors! So glad you enjoyed the poem, LeeAnn.
A great reminder to save our drafts as this ended up to be a fabulous poem!
Thanks so much, Donna!
Nice poem!
And yes to leting them getting a little more finished each time one revisits!
Some of them never really end the conversation, do they?! Thanks for reading, Simon.
Today I have grey sky, grey street. Good thing i like grey. Touch of color - yellow house across the street, parked blue car. Paintbrush said that was enough..
Auntie B
Sometimes just a touch of color is just right. Thanks for being here, B.
I love that you’ve written a poem with the cartoon paintbrush as your friend!
It's always a surprise which friends are going to show up in a poem! I'm so lucky I have friends like you to read them, Jeni, even when they're silly.
The imaginary dancing paintbrush is surely a wonderful tool. I love the way you imagine carnival colors not only on the houses but in the sky itself.
However, I think if I were faced with beige walls, I would like to bribe my painter brother to deface them with a mural. I suspect that in his younger days he was something of a guerrilla graffiti artist, but now he's gone legit and mostly programs websites, but sometimes paints murals on commission. Or I suppose I could offer his services to my neighbors.
In my college days I once defaced a concrete wall with chalk offerings to the poetry gods, writing up bastardized lines of favorite poems. I was called onto the carpet by the college officials, but the chalk washed off eventually.
It is lovely when you can return to a poem that wasn't quite working and can finally see how to tweak here... and there... and finally achieve some satisfaction that maybe you've got it right. I think you have here. It dances, full of animation.
Thanks so much, Melanie! I love the stories about how you and your brother brighten up the beige corners of the world.
♥️
💛🌿
Sweet, simple, relatable, and dare I say hopeful, especially today from several Avenues away.
We're having another one of those beige-grey days, aren't we? I know you'll find ways to add color to it, Lucy. Thanks so much for reading.