The Artist

[Donald Q.]

The Artist splashed color onto the page,  Does an artist paint on a page? Surely they pain on a canvas, or something similar? 

Her salty tears gave complexity to the colors she brushed on the page. The second half of this line is a bit too similar to the first line, it seems redundant. 

As they dripped into the colors, Maybe combine this line with the previous one?  

Each color thanked her for making them come alive. An interesting twist!

Blue said,

“I yearned to be the color of the skies,

The color of rushing waters,

Your tears showed me the way”. Nice idea, works well. 

Green then exclaimed,

“The color of the leaves in Spring were but an image, 

But your being poured into mine,

With each drop I become the very thing I sought”. The imagery for green isn't quite as good as that you give the other colours. More details maybe? 

Yellow,

With its bright gaze upon the sky,

“I blinded myself searching for what gives the Sun its radiance, Ha, very clever. 

However it is your warmth that makes me glisten on the page.”

And Red,

Whose deep and passionate color came from the blood of the artist herself, I think you can be more subtle with this twist. You could almost get away with not mentioning where the red comes from, only that it sure as hell ain't from the tears, and let the reader make the connection. 

Did not speak words at all,

But only danced across the page,

As the artist and her masterpiece became one. 

An interesting piece here, with an intriguing conceit, very enjoyable. It does need some tidying up in places; some I have highlighted, and I think sometimes the repetition is rather overwhelming, particularly the word colour! I like the passionate tone of the poem, look forward to reading an edit.