02-04-2018, 03:06 AM
This is a rather old piece of mine that I was reasonably proud of back when I wrote it. Over time I've come to believe it could be sharpened a bit (or a lot), but I've been afraid to rework it lest I destroy it - as such, I thought it best to seek a second opinion before jumping into a massacre. Here goes:
On the meaning of colors in poems
By the end of the story,
you’re already thinking
of someone reading it,
and you say to him:
Read it slowly
for the words were
written slowly in
a blue that had slowed
to almost black.
Blue
/bluː/
noun
1. (Informal.)
For there was a petrol pump 5km down the highway
and the sun was beating down and what I thought most about the
clump of trees nondescript to a city eye,
was why no one stopped here, or perhaps, why I did.
Black
/blak/
adjective
1. (Informal.)
Emptiness always spreads from anonymous places,
places which change form in details that are occasional
metaphors. The morning has come and gone, and at noon
you see everything but never see enough.
Black was the color
at night
of a frosted glass window
framed in Teak.
The wind lent a sepia tone
to a monochrome world.
Sepia
/ˈsiːpɪə/
noun
1. (Formal.)
Our homes tell us we are aging, that the creases of the world
are making their way into our skin. We have accustomed ourselves
to the absence of movement – Standing still as we are thrown back in time.
We reached out to each other’s arms only to drown in an endless distance.
Black faded into grey and
through it you could see me
in pigmented shades,
faded and intense,
at uncanny intervals.
Grey
/greɪ/
noun
1. (Formal.)
When the clouds came as foretold, they brought with them only
certain truths while obscuring others. When they sent their waters
crashing down onto a half formed world, our questions danced naked
in a muddy revelry that ever so slightly was eternal.
And as the tendrils
of your silence
teetered in through cracks
I was reborn in scarlet
on Zen garden snow.
Scarlet
/'skɑ:lət/
noun
1. (Informal.)
The words were still lovers when they burned apart.
Their ashes left a bittersweet, gravelly taste.
On the meaning of colors in poems
By the end of the story,
you’re already thinking
of someone reading it,
and you say to him:
Read it slowly
for the words were
written slowly in
a blue that had slowed
to almost black.
Blue
/bluː/
noun
1. (Informal.)
For there was a petrol pump 5km down the highway
and the sun was beating down and what I thought most about the
clump of trees nondescript to a city eye,
was why no one stopped here, or perhaps, why I did.
Black
/blak/
adjective
1. (Informal.)
Emptiness always spreads from anonymous places,
places which change form in details that are occasional
metaphors. The morning has come and gone, and at noon
you see everything but never see enough.
Black was the color
at night
of a frosted glass window
framed in Teak.
The wind lent a sepia tone
to a monochrome world.
Sepia
/ˈsiːpɪə/
noun
1. (Formal.)
Our homes tell us we are aging, that the creases of the world
are making their way into our skin. We have accustomed ourselves
to the absence of movement – Standing still as we are thrown back in time.
We reached out to each other’s arms only to drown in an endless distance.
Black faded into grey and
through it you could see me
in pigmented shades,
faded and intense,
at uncanny intervals.
Grey
/greɪ/
noun
1. (Formal.)
When the clouds came as foretold, they brought with them only
certain truths while obscuring others. When they sent their waters
crashing down onto a half formed world, our questions danced naked
in a muddy revelry that ever so slightly was eternal.
And as the tendrils
of your silence
teetered in through cracks
I was reborn in scarlet
on Zen garden snow.
Scarlet
/'skɑ:lət/
noun
1. (Informal.)
The words were still lovers when they burned apart.
Their ashes left a bittersweet, gravelly taste.
The strangeness extends in to the structure of the stanza...I have no solid thought on your solid thought. There is a temptation, and you may get some joy if my response is correct, to say "So what?" So what?