Shifting moods like shifting shades, greys and whites drifting together as black shadows of ink run down the page.
Shifting moods like shifting shades, like the changing shape of molded clay, unfinished and unrefined, I’m constantly shifting, this unsteady mind of mine.
So I attempt to change my colors, and shift this shade, I’ll alter this picture with the words put down on a page.
I’ll capture my sorrow, that deep grey tone, I’ll capture my fear, that inky black I’ve always known, I’ll paint my self free with these words of mine, since I can’t pick up the brush I’ll use this pen to put upon the finished touch.
I see my muse, that sorrow I know, and I’ll raise the stakes, I’ll write myself free of this dreary state. I’ll let myself go with these words to change these shifting moods.
My shifting shades.
I don’t usually write a message or an after thought on my poems. Normally my poems are just things I have to get out of my head when I’m in a particular mood. It’s amusing I suppose that I try to tell people that I don’t normally have much inspiration past the thoughts in my head, the things going on and I feel must be said. This time though I can’t quite claim that, I can say quite clearly this came to mind after reading a rather wonderful piece by the author of this wordpress briannadawn. I wanted to be honest on that part because I feel reading that and then immediately posting that without at least a nod to them would have been rude. (Should the author of that page want the link and mention removed I’ll do so, I’ve never really done this before but I tend to keep to myself normally so I’m not really sure how these things work.)