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Roger Burnett Art Blog


The Colour Black

by rogerburnett , April 11, 2013—12:00 AM

Topics: models, poetry

Here is a poem I wrote a couple of years in homage to Denise, my wife and model.

THE COLOUR BLACK

Black,

At a cursory glance

All shades are reduced to just that.

But to the painter, poet and lover

A hundred hues compete,

With the jet of her cane-row hair

And the pale saffron soles of her feet.

****

Put aside your tubes of Scarlet Lake,

And erase cloy similes of peach.

Look instead at freshly tilled earth

Or a wave-washed volcanic sand beach.

****

Cinnamon bark and breadfruit leaf,

Coffee beans in the warmth of the sun.

These tints her whole being encapsulates,

With nature's own colours, she's one.

****

From the dark areola of her breast

Brown madder and yellow ochre merge.

While sienna reds and blues subdued

In deep purple shadows converge.

****

Bold washes from her shoulders run

To trace the curve of her spine,

Elsewhere they accumulate

To hide a forested secret that's mine.

****

False mascara need not disguise

The warm sepia bloom of her cheek.

And applied loud rouge cannot improve

On rust-red coral - to her lips unique.

****

Just as her spirit cannot be bound,

To the pallid accepted norm.

Nor can the colours with which she abounds

Deny the race to which she was born.

****

Thus, to mellow tones my muse awakes

With shades of the islands beneath her feet.

With fervent passion I respond,

My sketch from life is complete.


 

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