Bittersweet Bitter

The painting below is just my interpretation. But therein lies the beauty of poetry: there are so many ways of looking at a poem that the work becomes personal for every one of us.

Bittersweet Bitter

Amber winds engulfed by spectral nectarine red

Pulsating phantasmic veins of acid

Journeying out of the realm of burnt sienna,

Phasing through the terra cotta boundary.

And with a ginger rejoice,

Her swift response; opaque defense

By the approach of some perinone apparition.

An avatar of what once was, gusting with jaffa incense,

A vagabond, no longer meandering about the coral shore

For he dares to tremble pure, forever a zephyr

But with an orange allure.

Newly cleansed by the citrus zest

Ochre sensations flourishing in autumn air

Exhibiting trinidad orange for her to behold

Freshly baptized by the cider fumes of death.

The constrained core, a dash of haste

His boiling transmission, a fragile nova

His fruitless attempt to take from the living

Just a morsel for taste.

A brief remembrance, months prior

A glance, a whisper, slight hymn of wind

Throbbing through strands of pang

He is dragged back through the void of auburn fire.

His shadowed hands stretched out to lock

The entanglement of his past; empty

As he is transported back into the dimension of sour apricot,

She briskly turns - her grin flushed away by her late husband's gust.