Quite honestly, I was tired, and a bit grumpy from not having slept on the six hour “overnight” flight. Not sure why, but I can rarely sleep on air planes. It is a gift to be able to snooze in the discomfort of economy class, and one that I admire greatly in all the folks around me who sleep so peacefully.
With an odd stroke of luck, however, sunrise caught my attention at the window. As I watched the multi-color parade of clouds and sun and bright blue skies, I painted a happy tune across my mind and found myself smiling sweetly at the beauty of Mother Nature. Ironically, I also found myself appreciating Her order, Her wisdom, Her efficiency, despite the foolishness of we human “organizers”. In that moment, I felt the power of color to heal, to lift the soul and enhance the present with its beauty, its intensity, its emotion.
Not surprisingly, I have always been particularly sensitive to color. Art lures me with its vibrancy and/or its emptiness of color. I feel the passion in a powerful red; I sense the tears in certain shades of blue; I relish the growth in the color of green. Van Gogh once wrote in a letter, something about “the greenest of the greens I know”, implying that there were many more greens unknown to him. It is true. There are an infinite number of shades and hues and each has the power to speak to us, within our very souls – whether we know it or not. The mystery of color has always appealed to me – its unknowable nature, the essence of the variety of life.
Sometimes the very first thing I notice in a man is the color of his eyes. Or his aura…
The hue of his eyes singsJazz to my smile,
as umbrella brows
dance in verdant surprise,
I am quiet, astonished,
bathed in that Tuscan aura.
as the deepest roots of trees,belying the youth in those vacuum eyes,
the pupil sparkling to his inner core.
Laughter, like forty shades of green
rustles the leaves along my forearm,
a spring-time storm,
… (and later, the poem continues) …
Race-car red,the jolt of that kiss
the razor-sharp slice of his buoyant tongue,
flicking away the rusty chains that bind me.
He burns and cuts the skin off me
to savor the bloody sweetness I hide
in various tints of white.
I am rainbow-full beneath
and he slides down inside me
to paint me anew
The excerpts of all of the poems presented in this blog are copyright protected, as each and every poem has been copyrighted. For a complete copy of any poem, feel free to email your request to: firstname.lastname@example.org.