Patina
A black man in 1890 painted these gorgeous glowing onions. Don’t ask why his colour matters. Colour mattered when he painted the crock, the kettle, the onions, their lovely coppery-gold patina. Still does. Still life. Tricia Marcella Cimera This poem was written as part of the 20 Poem Challenge. Tricia Marcella Cimera will forever be an obsessed reader and lover of words. Look for her work in these diverse places: Buddhist Poetry Review, The Ekphrastic Review, Foliate Oak, Fox Adoption, Hedgerow, I Am Not A Silent Poet, Mad Swirl, Silver Birch Press, Stepping Stones, Yellow Chair Review, and elsewhere. She has a micro collection of water-themed poems called THE SEA AND A RIVER on the Origami Poems Project website. Tricia believes there’s no place like her own backyard and has traveled the world (including Graceland). She lives with her husband and family of animals in Illinois / in a town called St. Charles / by a river named Fox.
4 Comments
10/19/2016 12:50:03 pm
Very nice. Well played in all the subtelty of the argument. Well done.
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Tricia Marcella Cimera
10/20/2016 09:16:52 pm
Thanks so much, John!
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Norbert Kovacs
10/21/2016 07:22:19 pm
this poem offers a quiet metaphor of race and an artist's use of color. Pertinent for today as in 1890.
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Tricia Marcella Cimera
10/22/2016 08:48:08 am
Thank you, Norbert, for the kind comment!
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