thoughts for the color blind



love is shade movable as shadow;
it is scintillant brightness;
it cannot be defined as if it were
a color described to someone blind
as orange…azure…emerald… a
dainty pink…a blood deep red

its thinking etches or erases like
lace edged sea foam on a beach

it is invisible as gravity…sensed
like space between tick…tock

no spell is implicit in its sounding
for its spelling is not sacrosanct…
it may as well be evol…olev…velo

enough…for we think of it as warm
or chill or thrill or pain or ecstasy…as
literal as pinch…sustaining as if breath

Bonnie Marshall

Art by Thomas Pollock Anshutz




what matters elemental is the rain


what matters elemental is the rain
…more than even love…
for rain is prime alchemical
with earth and wind and fire;
it nourishes essential as mere
caring cannot do

what matters elemental is the music
…more than even hate…
for euphony is evil-free
it bathes us in our soul;
it lifts us into thought
it floats us into dream

what matters elemental is intent
…more than even peace…
for persist is primum mobile
to navigate our destiny…to chart
us… berth us…sail us brave across
life’s storming of our days


Bonnie Marshall

Art by Adrian Borda


needing not to starve

henri rousseau lion-1910

in Africa…
acacia slake the heat
into shadow pools
across savanna where
night stitches tighten dusk

and lion prides stalk and
dash and thrash blood lust
to feed fight breed their
needing not to starve

no guilt…simple
nothing trinity

imagine now…drone
metallic lions…tigers
from the sky

programmed tightly
with philosophy… and
needing not to feel


Bonnie Marshall

Art by Henri Rousseau


frankly, my dear…

Gone With the Wind


frankly, my dear…

from my movie mind
I gather image word
and feeling meaning

I sort it to my brain
somewhere in a neuron
synapse cell to cell

I hear him say it with
that Rhett Butler voice…
know that cocksure gaze

brilliant framing at the
door between his worlds

at the turning point
he didn’t give a damn

flawless timing…always
absolutely perfect for
remembering of know


Bonnie Marshall

Gone with the Wind
Selznick International Pictures

prophecy slipped through


wyeth wind from the sea draft

prophecy slipped through
open windows…born on a
west-wind  fragrance of pale
ocean to agitate her white
curtains…disarray letters
on her desk…speak to her
in the scrape of gold red
autumn leaves dropped so
carelessly upon her porch,
in sunlit torch-ed flutter
imaged on her ceiling wall

a scrying need changed
currents in her blood…
changed direction of  a
subtle weather vane within
her brain to mediate faint
polarities of thought

a water thirst rose underneath
her tongue… a drowsy scarf…
a need to compass steps across
a room…she pinched her palm
for focus…for holding of a golden
thought against fading brevity
of  the pregnant light


Bonnie Marshall

Art by Andrew Wyeth
“Wind from the Sea” sketch