Of Beige and Tan
Written by
on
in
Vindaloo.
Too familiar walls
Bound off-white by law
Pock-marked by years
Refuse my eyes
A splash of red
A swirl of saffron
There, in the hall
Between pillasters
We must break out
Of beige and tan
To invite life back in
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Mike C. Fletcher, the VRPlumber, is a philosopher of design turned computer programmer based in Toronto, Canada. He works primarily in the Python programming language, and maintains a large number of Open Source software packages. You can reach him at: mcfletch@vrplumber.com.
Guess :) on 01/12/2006 11:35 a.m. #
<br />
I have the longing to commune in white<br />
An affinity radiating light<br />
Rays that rise and softly spread<br />
To share in the merismus red <br />
The blood wine cup of brotherhood<br />
Quenching the hanker to be understood<br />
<br />
Frustrated in these shades of grey<br />
That loom to overcast my day<br />
Exchanges mixing white through black<br />
I struggle to steal contrast back<br />
Exhaustion takes a strangle hold<br />
As the lack of colour sends me cold<br />
<br />
Do I cast off dreams of white and red<br />
If I refuse the call to take to bed <br />
Honey on 01/12/2006 6:55 p.m. #
<br />
âMerismus redâ worked for me<br />
When I was in half past three<br />
But now that 10 comes around<br />
The same assurance canât be found<br />
Though if the whole be white and red<br />
Iâm sure you get what was in my head<br />
<br />
Oh no, oh dear<br />
now I fear<br />
A bad poetry grade <br />
could be issued here :-P<br />
<br />
Mike Fletcher on 01/13/2006 8:59 a.m. #
Oh high-minded critic<br />
Would you grade<br />
The silent woods<br />
Or burbling mountain brook<br />
Crossing meadow's vale<br />
Over long-rounded stones<br />
Why then stamp<br />
Flowered words on a page<br />
With your slashing<br />
Sun-red pen<br />
Lay down your judging sword<br />
Lie with us in the meadow<br />
Listen to the stones bubbling<br />
Be content that they are<br />
That they are what they are<br />
And content yourself with that<br />
Which they are
Honey on 01/13/2006 8:03 p.m. #
<br />
I look to the sun<br />
Revealer of all beauty<br />
Seeing heâs the one<br />
I implore him to mark me<br />
His sword shall be<br />
A flaming blade of truth<br />
The hand of my salvation<br />
Against the ignorance of youth<br />
<br />
Mike Fletcher on 01/13/2006 10:40 p.m. #
They call you ignorant<br />
When once they sang your praise<br />
Pure and perfect they once named you<br />
Without blemish, stain or spot<br />
Full of hope and truth and purest light<br />
I still hold you in high regard<br />
Youth, who stands in the storm<br />
Child, who questions the emperor<br />
Babe, who loves the world<br />
I'll no blade of sun to your throat bring<br />
To sully snow-white skin<br />
Ignore for now the truth<br />
That lies in deepest red
Honey on 01/14/2006 2:18 a.m. #
<br />
opps, you beat me back...<br />
<br />
A youthful spirit<br />
In a body of decay<br />
What is age <br />
But a measure<br />
Of how much we can fray<br />
<br />
she says, choking on the wordsâ¦
Mike Fletcher on 01/14/2006 10:33 a.m. #
My edges they are tattered<br />
By the picking of the lovers<br />
My threads are strong<br />
Though a stain or two will fall<br />
It's better than my brother<br />
Whose threads are still pristine<br />
Tassels all attached<br />
Backing's always clean<br />
He hangs in that hard gallery<br />
Perfect to be seen behind a velvet rope<br />
No-one wraps themselves in him<br />
As they giggle by the fire<br />
No-one stretches out on him<br />
Runs their hand through silken pile<br />
Pulls their lady to their side<br />
Or laughs away the midnight while<br />
One day I will be too broken<br />
And my days will that day end<br />
Brother there will stay forever<br />
But never live again
Honey on 01/15/2006 12:46 a.m. #
<br />
What is the mystery of this book<br />
Lying open on my desk<br />
Somewhat outside my reading range<br />
Of this I duly here confess<br />
<br />
The change is one of pure delight<br />
Sweet music to my ears<br />
Words are transposed into song<br />
Some bring me near to tears<br />
<br />
Thumbing through the leaves<br />
Each renders more intrigue<br />
With its interactive nature<br />
And the tapestry like weave<br />
<br />
I long to hold against my face<br />
Breathing deeply of its age<br />
Yet knowing the last entry<br />
Was upon this morningâs page<br />
<br />
From where then comes the feeling <br />
This book lies outside time <br />
As if more where concealed within<br />
Than mere poetic rhyme<br />
<br />
As though some higher purpose <br />
In the writings is in play<br />
Of foundational design<br />
Foretold before creation day<br />
<br />
I see the magic held in words<br />
The power they possess<br />
When immortalised through the ages<br />
Each readers mind a new conquest<br />
<br />
Or maybe too Iâm a dreaming fool<br />
So many days spent in the grass<br />
When I should have kept me busy<br />
With studies in âthe real worldâ class<br />
<br />
But one thing gleaned out in the field <br />
- That nought of value came to be <br />
Which wasnât first locked inside dreams <br />
Before the dreamer set it free<br />
<br />
How lucky I am to read these words<br />
Perchance or gifted which have come my way<br />
Iâll treasure their reading as long as Iâve breath<br />
Of the belief they surpass apparent play<br />
<br />
And should destiny hold in her hand<br />
More than at present meets the eye<br />
This book like so many conceived before<br />
May bind words that will never die.<br />
Mike Fletcher on 01/16/2006 7:49 p.m. #
Posted response at the top level :) . I really rather like this one... but then I'm vain enough to think the song is about me :) ;) .
Honey on 01/17/2006 4:29 p.m. #
ya think? get outta here :)