This One's for Art Class
Its mists surround the world
09/07/03
in shrouds of texture
Its shadows lie between the two extremes,
its endless brother and barren sister.
In the eyes of some, and the sharp suits of others,
it continuously morphs itself,
from the hardest elements in nature,
to soft pelts, or gentle ribbons through the sky.
It is mysterious, never quite the same,
and, unlike its distant cousins,
can never be spoiled by an awkward tint.
It is the unmoving walls of both ancient and modern fortresses,
the thick skin of beasts in arid lands,
the lining of sleek technology.
Yet it is also quiet and forgiving with age,
a rich gravel like radio-static.
It is the beginning of our consciousness
and, sometimes, the end of our bodies.
It is a gorgeous youth who becomes miserable,
or a Lady who becomes Queen for not a fortnight.
It is intelligent and rocksteady,
the highest rung in a brave future society.
The base below a shining coat, of armor or coarse hair,
or the smudged scratchings on a paper moon.
Ever-elusive, its oft-ignored presence
adds swirling depths to the array of simple colors,
and its flexible manner allows it to thrive,
and occasionally shine into silver.
For my college Color class, I was supposed to write a passage that describes a color without naming it. Hopefully it's clear enough that this is a poem about the color gray. There are some more obvious clues ("gravel," "between the two extremes," "walls of both ancient and modern fortresses") along with some obscure references (The Picture of Dorian Gray, Lady Jane Grey, a Whiskeytown song called "Paper Moon", and the Alphas in the book Brave New World). All in all, it was pretty fun to write. yay! =)