deepundergroundpoetry.com
Color.
Color
White...
Walls.
White..
Walls.
So pretty..
So sad..
White,
Walls.
White
Walls.
No color..
No nothing. But everything.
Happy.
So happy are those white walls.
Void..
And black is happy.
White...
Walls.
White..
Walls.
So pretty..
So sad..
White,
Walls.
White
Walls.
No color..
No nothing. But everything.
Happy.
So happy are those white walls.
Void..
And black is happy.
Published 31st Jan 2015
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The author encourages honest critique.
This is fascinating, M. You ascribe happiness to both white and black. Are the white walls happy until the void, at which point they may have crumbled and gone? And does black then become content after having triumphed? Your poem is almost a litmus test. How it is read and interpreted may say as much about the reader as it does about the poem itself.
3rd Feb 2015 2:15am
I'm only fourteen.
I'm a bit scatterbrained right now but I'll try to explain.
White walls..they are empty. So calm, so happy.
The black walls..they are loud. Makes you think more.
Eh?
I'm sorry if I confused you even more.
I'm a bit scatterbrained right now but I'll try to explain.
White walls..they are empty. So calm, so happy.
The black walls..they are loud. Makes you think more.
Eh?
I'm sorry if I confused you even more.
