ABPA - Australian Bush Poets Association

NOT QUITE WHITE ... Maureen Clifford ©

White was nice, white was bland, white is not a colour.
God he was sick of white –
neutral white – blank palette white.
White overalls, white dust sheets –
everyone was the same -
like bloody sheep following the leader –
they all wanted white.

Where were the blues, the pistachios, cerise and aubergines?
When had white become the go –
safe old white –
cold white
Icy white, white out, antique white –
what’s right with white?

He sat under the light that filtered in through the skylight,
He smelt the fresh plaster,
noted the grain in the timber banisters,
soon to be painted white –
and as he stirred and stirred
the colours deepened –
became strong and vibrant. Alive.

He smiled, stood there surrounded by glass,
viewing the panorama
of natures vibrancy –
green and blue, yellow buttercups, wild crocus
and fluffy white clouds.
He began to paint his walls –
not white.

Good rhythm and tension in that one Maureen, just right for the subject. Not to mention my daughter's disgusting favourite " hog's bristle ( cold grey ) and good old stand-by of the non-committed ; beige.

I confess a penchant for Antique White in varying strengths, but always brightened with a strong colour contrast be it in paint or wallpaper

Oooh, one for my painter husband, Maureen!

People ask why painters wear white - well, your poem answers it!

Cheers
Shelley