KMKAT's poem

I am pleased to reveal KMKAT's poem, fresh off the press. I spent a lot of time thinking about KMKAT and she certainly set me a challenge with her theme of "Blue October...and a bit of orange too please."

I ended up writing this at a pavement table at an inner city cafe, a place I go to when I am totally and completely stuck and cannot write a word. It's a teeny tiny bakery with very good croissant and coffee (ummm...croissant....eurolush.....chocolate croissant....) and every single person there, I swear to you, every person - baker, counter assistant, customer, is arty-looking. Every single person looks like they have been up all night writing novels and screenplays or practicing for an audition or designing an award-winning fashion collection. So...where was I?...oh yes, so I was sitting there trying to write this poem for dear dear KMKAT when suddenly the guy sitting next to me starts to talk to me. He was very attractive and young and was intrigued by what I was doing. Hehehehe....hey Kmkat....I really owe you one....it was terribly good for my ego you know. Ahem...of course, Mr. Commentbox is my one and only true love, of course, ahem, but still, awfully flattering don't you think? So...um...yeah....who knew that blogging would lead me to writing poetry in public places.

So, here is the poem which is dedicated with much love to blogger and commenter extraordinaire: KMKAT.




BLUE OCTOBER

That month's added numbers
May well write of
Equality,
And that mother of men
May well dream of
Eternity.

But I have seen
All her books,
Arithmetically labelled,
And to me they did
Colour-talk,
Blue, red,
White and
Yellow.

Primarily blue
Told a tale of
A whiteness,
Of fiberglass mouldings
And chairwheeling fantasies.

Then red
Itself knitted
A man for all seasons,
And a wife
For good measure
And the very best reasons.

But the yellow
Spoke harshly
Of numbers
Of lifetimes,
Of death
And destruction
In her desert imaginings.

So I took out
My paintbrush
And my dirty old palette,
And started to mix it,
Out of love,
And some madness.

I married the red
Of her son’s future bride,
To the yellow of climates
Of warring disguise.
The ending I coloured
With hope, thought and courage,
And her sunset soon flourished
In glorious orange.