Poetry: The Works of Diego Olguin
Out of the Sandbox December 30, 2015By Diego Olguin
Poem 5: Raining Colors
The colors are raining
In the sky, in the trees
Something is draining
My blood is no longer red
My hopes are no longer green
How can my blood be red and hopes be green?
If all those once-blooming moments and roses were given to you…
These droplets, they are not blue
These memories, they are not purple
They are transparent and
Carry no more color from the core
How can they?
When it has all rained down and left only hollowness…
I gave my red, green, blue, yellow, orange
And expected nothing in return but,
To be a reflection;
To be that sixth mysterious sense which was a mixture of all colors
To be the sun from which the rain would make the rainbow
For all those colors to be above the seeing
But instead…
Clouds shrouded the sun
And instead of going up
All the colors went down…
These wounds, they are colorless and cause no pain
There is no rainbow…
Only rain…
Poem 1: Between Fire & Ice
Oh, what sterilizing heat
Inside, there is no longer beat
Surrounded by the mist of fire…
What crackling slaughter
Where is there water?
If only I had a bit, as I desire…
The cup is unfilled
All is now chilled
There was once life…
All movement is now gone
When will this moment reach dawn?
All was taken amid the harmonious sound of the fife…
Header photo by Michael Pardo (flickr creative commons license)
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