Who Wanted To Ask Why In A Thousand Colours

who wanted to ask why in a thousand colours
chalking it in the rain

now that the arbiters of colours fix their power
with the glue that won't wash off
after so many washings.

after so many washings I have tried and found
this hopscotch marring wanting.
the chalk paintings shine like mirages

in the clouds thus, they live on so

that little children looking up
if they look up
accept the sky bourne Christmases

as if they were a birthright.
so much washes away
from day to day for the glitterati

asking who am I to say
if the poem is apropos.
it is a soul a soul a soul

you will not speak away
from the platform you think
exceeds even God's whose

oceans wash themselves
without your saying, "it is so..."
continually and

the brooks wash the coloured stones
I will not throw into the ripples of
the why of a thousand colours

in crowded rooms they ignore,
they ignore. at the interminable parties
where nothing is lauded and wall to wall.


mary angela douglas 3 november 2015