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Confetti

Submitted by Lavender on Sun, 2023-11-05 21:23

I find a reflective fog
outside my window this morning.

It hides the vibrant signs of fall -
the changes in spent leaves
not ready to let go of summer,
ordained to flaunt their fingertips.

I am given no cordial greeting from the backyard.
It holds no personality, save one late rose,
pink and dewy, peeking out toward me
from the gray.

There is no memory of the colors
of the world - the cardinal, the jay,
the periwinkle I planted around the steps.

I pull on my mother's sweater
and make a cup of tea,
the matcha illuminating the water.

And then a ray of sun penetrates
the room and fans out across the floor.
I catch my breath...
a thousand bursts of color scatter like confetti.

Alive, I recieve the light.

Style / type:

Free verse

Review Request (Intensity):

I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Last few words:

The miracle of colors after a heavy fog...

Editing stage:

Editing - rough draft

Content level:

Not Explicit Content

Comments

Ruby Lord

Mon, 2023-11-06 08:53

This is so sweet, I enjoyed

This is so sweet, I enjoyed its relaxed feel and could see the details as you gave them to the reader one by one.
I have a small suggestion for an improvement? The lines,
The backyard is like an aged photograph,
still life void of life.
As I am a pedant and always trip up on repeated words, "life" stuck out for me. Can I suggest,

still life void of colour.
still life in sepia.
still life in monochrome.
still life born of unnatural form.

The last one, I think this is my reference to the Cubist movement and Paul Cezanne?
It's a lovely read, full of movement and colour. Ruby :) x

Give and grow - let's raise our verses together. I'm happy to comment on your work and appreciate a comment on mine.

Lavender

Mon, 2023-11-06 11:44

Hello, Ruby,

Thanks for your energy and time reading this. Hmm...I'll think over your suggestion. Using the word "life" twice in the same sentence was intentional - a play on the phrase "still life" used in painting and photography. Looking out at the fog, there was no life to speak of, not only void of color, but void of existence and creation itself. Love the Paul Cezanne suggestion, I believe it comes the closest to meaning. Thanks, again, for your generous time helping me with this!
L

author comment

Ruby Lord

Mon, 2023-11-06 14:32

Sorry Lavender, I didn't read

Sorry Lavender, I didn't read it like that, but that is my issue :) Thank you for your patience and reply. Ruby :) x

Give and grow - let's raise our verses together. I'm happy to comment on your work and appreciate a comment on mine.

Lavender

Mon, 2023-11-06 14:47

Hi, Ruby!

Please don't be sorry. The way a poem speaks to you is different for everyone. Your suggestion is appreciated and lets me know I may need to tweak that line so that it reads better, or maybe even delete it altogether. I will always appreciate any advice offered.
Thanks, Ruby!
Lx

author comment

RoseBlack

Mon, 2023-11-06 11:56

Hi L

What a sweet, reflective poem. I felt there was a comparison to how the slightest changes in the weather can make a difference just how the slightest changes in life can as well. We seem to feel so much better when we are able to escape from the dreariness and embrace the light. Well done.

~RoseBlack~

Lavender

Mon, 2023-11-06 12:48

Hello, Carrie,

Yes! So true! The fog was eerie and mysterious (kind of cool), but when the sun broke through, my entire mood changed. And the colors in the room just scattered!
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts!
L

author comment

Neopoet

Confetti