Strangely Familiar

I find purple to be one of the most beautiful colors in nature. It is coveted by royalty, and brightens any field of wildflowers. It is rich, it is delicate, it is sweet, and wildly dark. The twilight sky is nightly stained with violet memories, and lavender fields are divine in their gorgeous simplicity. I share with you my thoughts on this majestic color.  Purple In the shade of the orchards we sit, you and I. Whispering our silky words into the crisp air. I dreamt of amethyst suns glazing the world with a plum frost and holding your hand for the first time. I always see best when there are lavender flowers woven into my hair and the juicy flesh of a royal pomegranate drips down my chin, leaving a strange violet vine. That is when I am without name or fame, desire or shame. It is this night that the gems of the earth matter not, that even the orchids bow their regal heads.  We are outside the universe and outside care.  I would not dare to end this pensive hour,  yet our pitcher of

No one ever says brown is their favorite color- it's not bright, it's not vibrant, and it's not very beautiful. It is earthy. It is natural. It is skin, soil, butterfly wing, and death. It is, perhaps the deepest color of the earth, as well as the most elevated. How 'bout them brown apples? ~Brown~   What are you that brings sweat to men's brows as they tear you apart, reaping and forcing you to give for centuries? You thirst for the rain, sweet martyr,  while they thirst for your very last fruit. What are you that men will kill thousands of their brethren, holding you hostage along with their own brothers? You must quietly drink the blood they have spilled, weeping silently as they mar your skin with shallow mines. What are you that an exile longs to crawl back to your warm womb rather than seek riches elsewhere?  He will lower his lips in a fervor of final peace as he kisses that which can be his only home. What are you that men shamelessly use you for thei

Next up in the series is... you guessed it! Yellow (gold, ochre, amber, sepia, daffodil...whatever you want to call it). Yellow has always been the color of optimism for me- never overbearing, just bright enough to make me smile. This poem pays tribute to that particular quality of yellow that means light, joy, and hope. ~Yellow~ When the sun shines, you’ve got to catch it Save it for those amber-colored days When the lemons won’t turn to lemonade Because you ran out of sugar last week Save it for that faded moment Of sepia-toned memories Playing like a reel behind your eyes Maybe a remnant of a sunny state fair day Or a flash of ribbon resting in her dark hair Mmm- if I could, I’d fry your smile In golden butter And dip it in mustard Before gobbling it up, Licking the crumbs off My fingers And slurping the juice off My plate When the sun shines, you’ve got to catch it Soak it in. Grow your seed into a Sunflower The daffodils will never Lie down of their own Accord Sand is not just

I continue with my color series today with red: the color of aggression, the color of romance, the color of pure passion. I read a wonderful book on the background and histories of different colors not too long ago (it's actually called Color ).In it, I learned that some of the original red pigments used, and used even now, is cochineal blood. Red is rich; it is energetic; it's extravagant and beautiful all the same. ~Red~ I wish I wish I wish for red for a throbbing, heart- stopping, firecracker popping kind of red blood, rose, flame stop for me stop for me stop for me sometime blush, lips, kiss well, I can’t remember the last thing you said but I can recall the rush of blood I can remember the feeling silk, crimson, lush what does that glance mean as I walk by you in the morning? brick, stoplight, falling leaf you have been struck, I see made to halt and look at me oh the rush, the rush is back I wish I could know… what does love smell like? cherry? strawberry? raspberry?

Of all God's gifts to the sighted man, color is the holiest, the most divine, the most solemn (John Ruskin) I know I can never own a color, but I am greedy for them. I love surrounding myself with vibrant hues, or else seeking them in nature. There is nothing like the deep, iridescent, midnight blue on a peacock's feather. There is nothing so lovely as fall leaves turning into burning shades of fire. There's no happier place than sitting among a riot of wildflowers, equal parts peaceful and inspiring. I have also tried to capture color another way: through words. What is the essence of being blue? What does brown sound like? In these next few posts, I will be sharing my collection of poetry inspired by color. Mediterranean Reflections: A Color Series ~ Blue~ With the verve of Shakespeare the morose Prussian blue seduces those Russian UFOs into shimmering and flashing A liquid slab of mellow, full-bodied blueberries -elixir thick- poured into outerspace for