Graphic poetry prompt
Upon this canvas, colors weave,
A poem's soul, they deftly cleave.
Crimson skies, a twilight song,
Golden fields where hopes belong.
Blue seas whisper thoughts anew,
Mountains stand in emerald hue.
Shadows drift in silent black,
Mysteries trace their winding track.
In every stroke, the heart's own theme,
A vivid dance, an artist's dream.
Deep gashes to my heart bled red
The bright orange of the sunset
Failed to hide how sallow the core
Of a once gay
Yellow orb in the sky became
Between my final gasps
I glimpsed one last mesh
Of green shrubbery and blue skies
Aquamarine blurring on the horizon
From the brown of dust I came
The black of loam I became
Upon this canvas, colors weave,
A poem's soul, they deftly cleave.
Crimson skies, a twilight song,
Golden fields where hopes belong.
Blue seas whisper thoughts anew,
Mountains stand in emerald hue.
Shadows drift in silent black,
Mysteries trace their winding track.
In every stroke, the heart's own theme,
A vivid dance, an artist's dream.
Deep gashes to my heart bled red
The bright orange of the sunset
Failed to hide how sallow the core
Of a once gay
Yellow orb in the sky became
Between my final gasps
I glimpsed one last mesh
Of green shrubbery and blue skies
Aquamarine blurring on the horizon
From the brown of dust I came
The black of loam I became