For every lady poet who ever dreamed in color and wrote of it...this is for you! (And of course for the men also  
     

My words, an emerald plea
Give voice along the paths
where lilies die,
you may not die, you are my own!
Each thought be my rosette upon the sea
through mauve mislaid eternity.
Ov'r moving sky let wanderings be-
my words, my painted words!

Oh, I will carve you in the maple
deep within the oak!
Pale lavender, my breath take heed,
return to me the words I spoke!
But please, oh please, take ax to words
that sting and burn.
Into fire, the quenching fire!

And ones that decorated wind
in watercolor-
blue within
they drift and swirl and dissipate.
but words so cruel and full of hate
are spiritually, my enemy-
for once they brushed, disfigured thee.

The wind may burn, the lilies spread
but words!   They left me once for dead
But now I live and live alone
breathing from a wall of stone.
To speak my words, cerulean shine
my words, my very own, and mine?
And if they be not mine?
They die alone
to brutal stone…

I shall dig the grave
I'll dig the grave-
for not my words
my words to save.


artwork: allutiiq art museum