Poem for the Day - Repainting the Scream

Repainting the Scream

How pretty fine it is to be born

under a blue sky. 

To watch garden roses unfolding 

their 'double delight'. The ones 

crimping out their pink skirts, 

giggling in the wind ─  

their cream undies showing. 

How terrible, then, an expression on a face, 

standing on a bridge, swirl of dark water beneath, 

a red sky full of pain. And so many 

steadfast hours going into the work 

of a silent, yet unsettling scream. 

Nothing about Edvard Munch’s scene 

will ever change. Yet, I want to repaint 

that unhappy face. Swirl his body around, 

zero in with just a tiddly-wink of smile. 

The bridge gone, water gone, blue sky 

now shouldering disheveled dobs of cloud. 

I want the man to see exquisite

lady beetles burrowing into double delights.  

I want his eyes looking out on this urban 

garden where rough beds thirst and the 

stocky butcherbird on the tippy

buoyancy of a branch, sings.