NOT QUITE WHITE ***, free verse Options

[Maureen]

NOT QUITE WHITE - Amended version


White was nice,
white was bland,
white was not a colour.

God, he was sick of white – neutral white – blank palette white.
White overalls, white dustsheets.
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 filtered light from the skylight,
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. Surrounded by glass he stood
viewing the panorama of nature's vibrancy.

Green and blue,
yellow buttercups, wild crocus
and fluffy white clouds.

He began to paint his walls...
Not quite white.

NOT QUITE WHITE


White was nice, white was bland, white was 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 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 quite white.

Maureen Clifford ©