21st Century Cave Paintings
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This was written in standard sonnet form then pulled apart a bit to it's current structure. I labeled it as a sonnet here because I had to choose something and that felt closest.
Far away, further gone, the farmer thought,
As watercolors brushed his canvas stain,
“My wife and her children, must have forgot
to come home again,” - blurs melting in rain;
-
“Forever finds all, but did he forget,
the wet daVinci now who finger paints?”
I thought, then yelled; “Hey Dad! Let’s go! You’re wet!”;
A son straining through blinds I felt inside,
Would I once be he, or would I just die?
His caves are graves that open, close, then hide,
then back to close as bats chasing a fly;
I thought of him, but thought to forget –
Then someone yelled from some neighbor’s cave,
Some voice I knew, from some buried grave;
“Hey Dad! Let’s go! You’re wet!”
Far away. Further gone. In another’s thoughts.
Copyright © Phillip Garcia | Year Posted 2016
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