dear 5 liter bucket of “sahara” colored paint,

i slept in the desert once,
a ragged bedouin tent

the night
has thousand voices, sand
between its toes
and greasy eggs for breakfast
as the sun washes her face
in dew
in hidden streams
in thoughtfulness

i bought the bucket at the DIY
for 7 Euros/half price,
not exactly top notch quality
more mudflat,
slush, left in a city
when a flood hits

still it makes me think of venice
&i paint hues of english-red
bright on her cheeks

&maybe this is more a letter about comradeship
one third’s
the fear of losing it
one third wide
wide open space
the rest
i haven’t figured out yet,

i remember lying in that tent,
the distant howl of coyotes,
rustling movement
in the sand next to my ear,
a million stars pinned to the firmament

&each
a story/ in a story/ in a voice
i miss

so desperately

.

wrote this to Abhra´s “write a letter” prompt – and linking up with OLN at dVerse

49 responses to “dear 5 liter bucket of “sahara” colored paint,

  1. Such a lively night! When you add the English red rouge the coyotes really howl and the stars tell their stories. I’d miss it too. My only fear would be that I’d be too afraid to camp alone again.

  2. I like a story in a story in a voice……to me this speaks of finding poetry in the small things of life….which we so often do..

  3. The poem made me recall the night we spend in the desert of Tunisia…the sounds of the jackals in the night…oh and how the sand entered every part of the tent.

  4. you bring me back to sleeping under the stars in the Sahara, too, Claudia, those many moons ago. and now I’ll take that into my dreams tonight ~

  5. You took me right there to the tent, the rustling sand, the firmament of stars. Sigh. This was a journey to read, that ends so poignantly. Beautiful, Claudia. As is your painting.

  6. This is beautiful Claudia. To me it’s a letter to nature, to life, to that voice. We all need to spend time in the desert to hear it. I love your painting too. It’s full of the whimsy that bounces around in your mind. Hope you’re doing well.

  7. Lovely painting & I haven’t slept in the tent in the desert yet ~ Love the honesty in this part:

    &maybe this is more a letter about comradeship
    one third’s
    the fear of losing it
    one third wide
    wide open space
    the rest
    i haven’t figured out yet,

  8. If this were a night at the opera, I’d be standing up clapping my hands until blistered, jumping up and down and shouting ‘brava’ at the top of my lungs. A painting taken directly from your heart. Marvelous. This is a picture I will definitely hang in my brain gallery and enjoy for years to come.

  9. I really like that second stanza. Sleeping outside in a tent really makes it easier to hear the voices muffled by our every day lives. I’ve not yet slept out in the desert though…

  10. I slept in the woods and mountains of the Harz once, where I was sent to “fatten up” … 8 years old, and very lonely … ripped away from my family … I did not gain an ounce … and almost died of homesickness … anyway …our group leader got us lost in the woods … “really good” … so we slept under some beach trees … and where rescued by police in the morning … our leader was fired on the spot after that … I so loved the whole experience though … her name was Anneliese … she was good to me … she rubbed Wicks on my chest, when I was ill with pneumonia during my “Erholung” … I will never forget her … Love, cat.

  11. Sounds like a night of beauty and great atmosphere. I especially liked,

    i remember lying in that tent,
    the distant howl of coyotes,
    rustling movement
    in the sand next to my ear,
    a million stars pinned to the firmament

    I’ll be excited to hear howls, while hoping they don’t get close… haha

  12. A wonderful rich tapestry of words Claudia.
    I do so hope you hear that voice again.
    Kind regards
    Anna :o]

  13. Such wistful hues, where paint becomes word, where hue becomes philosophy. Your last stanza was killer, & so cool U combined both prompts; the poem is so lush, rich with imagery that one forgets it is also a letter; excellent art per usual, of course.

  14. “&maybe this is more a letter about comradeship
    one third’s
    the fear of losing it
    one third wide
    wide open space
    the rest
    i haven’t figured out yet”

    So much truth in those words. You can tell you’re a painter just by reading your poetry. Your words always paint quite the picture.

  15. Abstract and yet such a story here. I loved this one Claudia. I’ve missed your poetry. My favorite line was of the sun washing its face. Amazing imagery.

  16. ahhh… a night has a thousand voices everywhere, but in a desert it’ll be a lot easier to hear…
    such a live poem
    (sorry, I am lacking words today, don’t know how else to put it)

  17. I can imagine that night listening to thousand voices singing bedouin songs in chorus. How lovely it must have been sleeping over the desert’s skin… just imagine the quality of silence one can get from such a place. Thanks for the poem, Claudia! Smiles.

  18. I loved this part as did Alex
    “&maybe this is more a letter about comradeship
    one third’s
    the fear of losing it
    one third wide
    wide open space
    the rest
    i haven’t figured out yet”

    Do we ever figure anything out in life?

  19. That night in Bedouin tent would be such a great experience, I read a piece as a young boy on that – it would be such a great adventure. Smiles.

  20. “&maybe this is more a letter about comradeship
    one third’s
    the fear of losing it
    one third wide
    wide open space
    the rest
    i haven’t figured out yet”
    These words apply to so many situations in life–do we ever figure things out? Or do we even want to? The wide open space is so appealing, perhaps we don’t want to move further.

  21. Claudia, this is a beautiful poem. It simply transports. I can see you in the desert, in that tent, and I can see you with that bucket of paint. It has that duality that your poems are so rich with. My favorite part is this:

    the night
    has thousand voices, sand
    between its toes
    and greasy eggs for breakfast
    as the sun washes her face
    in dew
    in hidden streams
    in thoughtfulness

    brilliant lines!!

  22. How wonderful, Claudia. I love the feeling of abandon in this, the colors and, of course, the desert references. When I take the dogs out at night, the stars seem so close. One of the sounds we here a lot right now are the croaking of a chorus of frogs and then there’s the crickets!

  23. Claudia, I can see the stars from here! The names they give paint can often be poetic…my bathroom is painted “Hollow Cavern” (a rich chocolate brown). Love your poem🙂

  24. … by the way … don’t think I didn’t notice, that you and Bryan and catnip disappeared from “poem world” … what’s going on ? Love, cat.

  25. I love what you’ve done with the mudflat slush, very nice!

    And love the images of where the sun washes her morning face.

    Hope you get to hear those desert night voices soon!!

    xoox

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