The Painting Poem by John Rickell

Glow red you terracotta sky,
Deep blue you narrow sea
Beneath exotic skies
Above grey and drying sands,
Cool and still, grey on grey,
Still as three fishermen
Dressed in shades of grey,
Cool and still . . .
All still, still as grey can be.
Not a word btween them
Why does he stare, the one between
The two who look out west . . .
Is there invitation in that stare?

Glow red you terracotta sky
Deep blue you narrow sea
Beneath the exotic sky...
Have you nought to say?
Was it good today?
The sea far out, the beach
Stretching to its limit
Smooth and grey, still as grey can be,
Grey on grey, blue on blue
So long the day
Beneath the terracotta sky
The boat lies on its side
Pointing to the north,
Still, grey on grey, leaning on the beach
Dry, marooned and waiting for the tide.
Deep blue narrow sea
Glowing terracotta sky.
You do not answer,
Have you nothing yet to say?
Lean all day, grey smocked, black cap.
Does the red alarm you?
It was the artists whim.
Ask him why . . .
Terracotta glowing red
Above the deep blue sea.