Image found HERE


On the paintings
the girls they tiptoe
to strip down the silvers,
wider shins and waning
around their legs and arms;

the ravens caw;

the boys swallow the Sun,
pick it like snacks,
bejewel their veins
and sleep in its golden slit –
How unlikely is the myth
of my Nature and my Nurture,
in the bosom of a knot –
in the vertebrae,
like an un-bitten
slice of an orange;
callous and white

the locking of eyes,
yours and mine:
someone’s easy bishop
with the queens baggage,
hunting riffle over his shoulder,
starless in his vessel – taken to g7,
our hearts bobbing in his sack like a holiday plan
discussed over hotdogs, mojitos,
over the blood and within the dream,
rocked like a boat and worn like a straw-hat,
full of paper strips,
bearing our childish names for everythings,

the dead tree reminders
are the diction
in our necks –
my thoughts of you like will-o-wisp,
your thoughts of me blameless nostalgia
sealed with a touch,
a kiss,
a holding.

The brushing off the hair
from your face to
make space for sunlight;
the disarming of my clenched teeth
for the moonlight to cope


our loves,
like our deities,
leisuring on top of emerald fields
donning the paintings;
are fiction,
yet you and I
are real,


*Written for the Wordle at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

~ by Oloriel on July 19, 2022.

7 Responses to “Technicolour”

  1. This poem gets better and better those last stanzas were phenomenal! I would have to quote too much to say what it is loved because I loved everything. Reading this reminds me of how it feels when I create poetry. I haven’t really been able to create for a while.

    • Thank you very much for reading; hearing that means a lot to me, because I have felt similar for a long while now. Somehow, nowadays, it is far easier and comes more naturally to paint and create textures and artworks, while writing feels like digging.
      Your comment makes me feel like perhaps I have not completely lost touch with that part of myself; just like it probably makes you feel too

  2. Awesome visuals.

  3. Wonderful! I love the “someone’s easy bishop with the queens baggage”
    The words are so well incorporated I wouldn’t even know they were prompted.

Tell me something

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Punk Noir Magazine

The Only Crime Is Getting Caught

Hazel J. Hall

Writing through the chaos

Quixotic Mama

some may think I'm just a fool tilting at windmills, but maybe I'm not

Celine Aubert

Explore my books, works-in-progress, side projects, and random brain machinations.

The Violet Hour Magazine

A showcase of literary & artistic talent

Horned Things

A Literary Journal for the Discerning Creature


Colorful~ imaginative ~ Contemporary Art

One Million Photographs

Follow along with me as I travel the world on a quest to publish one million photos

Daydreaming as a profession

Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.

Pungent Sound Journal of Pulp Poetry

Poetry and Commentary that Smells


Author of "Within Paravent Walls", "Daughterbody I | a self-exorcism through poetry", "Daughterbody II | a self-reclamation through poetry", "you ate popcorn in my house of grief | transgenerational poetry", "mutterseelenallein und splitterfasernackt | transgenerationale Trauma- und Trauergedichte" & "symbiosis | a sister's psychogeographical grief". Pentalingual Idealist. Hypercreative homebody. Transgenerational Poetess.

Tricia Sankey

poet and author of The Light in the Cave

Brave & Reckless

Reclaiming my inner badass at 50

%d bloggers like this: