Sunday, July 6, 2008

Colors Passing Through Us

There's a blog I love done by a woman named Sherry (see link at right), and every Sunday, she does "Poetry Sunday." Many many months ago, she posted a poem called "Colors Passing Through Us" that has been one of my favorites ever since. When I was down in Moab, I was struck by the beauty of all the different wildflowers, and the contrast of the red rock against the blue sky. I started taking pictures, trying to get something that had every color in it. The search continued throughout the month, so not all of these are from Moab. And I realize that some of the colors might not exactly match, but...they're all beautiful. So now, here is the final result: the compilation of words and photos, my little mind-collage for the week :)

Colors Passing Through Us
by Marge Piercy

Purple as tulips in May, mauve
into lush velvet, purple
as the stain blackberries leave
on the lips, on the hands,
the purple of ripe grapes
sunlit and warm as flesh.

Every day I will give you a color,
like a new flower in a bud vase
on your desk. Every day
I will paint you, as women
color each other with henna
on hands and on feet.

Red as henna, as cinnamon,
as coals after the fire is banked,
the cardinal in the feeder,
the roses tumbling on the arbor
their weight bending the wood
the red of the syrup I make from petals.

Orange as the perfumed fruit hanging their globes on the glossy tree,
orange as pumpkins in the field,
orange as butterflyweed and the monarchs
who come to eat it, orange as my
cat running lithe through the high grass.

Yellow as a goat’s wise and wicked eyes, yellow as a hill of daffodils,
yellow as dandelions by the highway,
yellow as butter and egg yolks,
yellow as a school bus stopping you,
yellow as a slicker in a downpour.

Here is my bouquet, here is a sing song of all the things you make
me think of, here is oblique
praise for the height and depth
of you and the width too.
Here is my box of new crayons at your feet.

Green as mint jelly, green
as a frog on a lily pad twanging,
the green of cos lettuce upright
about to bolt into opulent towers,
green as Grand Chartreuse in a clear
glass, green as wine bottles.

Blue as cornflowers, delphiniums,
bachelors’ buttons. Blue as Roquefort,
blue as Saga. Blue as still water.
Blue as the eyes of a Siamese cat.
Blue as shadows on new snow, as a spring
azure sipping from a puddle on the blacktop.

Cobalt as the midnight sky
when day has gone without a trace
and we lie in each other’s arms
eyes shut and fingers open
and all the colors of the world
pass through our bodies like strings of fire.

1 comment:

  1. I really admire your picture-taking abilities. I envy you in some ways. Are you sure you don't want to add another major and come take Photography with me too? Miss you!


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