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A Paint Shop For The Colour Blind

Roger Turner·February 20, 2018

Poetry English

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A Paint Shop For The Colour Blind

written by: roger turner

@titansdad

looking out into the street

there’s a line a mile long

i haven’t even opened yet

there must be something wrong

the line it stretches round the block

it doesn’t make much sense

i feel a riot may break out

i start getting rather tense

the phone is ringing off the hook

i amazed at things i hear

i’ve never had a thought like that

i tell them ‘stick it in your ear

they tell me, mate, that’s just the point

i tell them to go on

i’m a paint store for the colour blind

i’m not a sex salon

for days the calls keep coming

i don’t know what to say

i just run a small paint shop

known as fifty shades of grey

About
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Roger Turner

DECEMBER 2018 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com

I live in London, Ontario, Canada. I have published a few books "The Christmas Ponies", "Sarah and The Christmas Ponies" among others on amazon. My tastes run to Stephen King, but reach from Dr. Suess, and Shel Silverstein. I love golf and old films and anything related to old Las Vegas. I am married to the love of my life, Megan, and have been for 19 years.

Lauren Scott

Lauren Scott writes poetry and memoir and enjoys the challenge of trying other genres. She has authored two collections of poetry: New Day, New Dreams and Finding a Balance. In 2021, she released her memoir, More than Coffee. She is a contributing author in the anthology, Poetry Treasures 2: Relationships, as well as in the upcoming anthology, This is How We Grow. Her fourth book, Ever So Gently, is a poetry collection to be published in June. She recently finished her first children's book and works with her illustrator with plans to release it this year. She lives in California with her husband, Matt, and their lab, Copper. They have two adult children residing on the east coast. Lauren's writing inspiration comes from her love of family, spending time outdoors, and finding joy in the simple things.

Shadows of New York by Francisco Bravo Cabrera

One day I sat and listened to the choirs of Babel.
It took me back to when I painted shadows in New York
which cast skyscrapers high above your garden.
And I wondered if an island, in the seas of nowhere,
would have served as shelter if our ship should sink.

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and has that made you forget me?
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Did you forget the sailing trips?
Was it because Manhattan’s winds destroyed your jib?...

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