‘Colour’ – the magic of. The incredible gift of light that brings the spectrum of possibilities. So many shades and variations, that can be seen and experienced in every thing that exists around us.
An array found in every thing around us. From fruit, to flowers, from sunsets, to paints, and food, and to eyes, hair and skin, such diversity.
Each colour on its own, so many stories to tell. Something the eyes have the privilege of experiencing. An amazing gift to enjoy and appreciate. So many beautiful moments around colour.
What does the word ‘colour’ conjure up to you?
We hope you enjoy our poems this week.
Feel free to comment or pass on for others to experience these short journeys.
The next week’s word is ‘candle’
Hope to see you there.
Blame me I used Colour.
My name is Carl and I lived in Sweden
A naturalist who was sharing my opinion
My studies centered on the human species
The need to identify various characteristics
It was only meant to show our diversity
Not to be used to support any superiority
I chose to identify them geographically
Based on the four continents
Whitish, Reddish, Tawney, Blackish
It was to be a guide to help me classify
Stupidly into four different classes
I took the step of using skin colour
A false idea that became reality
A silly little tool I made up
To help me categorise my analysis:
“No sane mind would be so frivolous
To call them four distinct species”
I mean it was just a grid to map
Our irregular idiosyncratic traits
I’m sad to say my decision
Has wreaked havoc on the human race
A tool for ordering knowledge
Not a definition to be used for hate
For all my best intentions I applied
My past self can only apologise
My ‘auntie’ Stella Was a lovely kind person She would visit my mum Whilst my Dad was at the pub with her husband ‘uncle’ Bob who was a ‘salt of the earth’ kind of guy
When I ‘stunt’ rode my bike Over bumps and dips, I cracked the cross bar He took the bike and welded it better
When he noticed that I could only swim underwater He used a rope and other means to teach me to swim over
Of course neither ‘uncle’ Bob nor ‘auntie’ Stella were relatives It just avoided the perceived rudeness of children addressing adult friends by their first names like their parents
Anyway… ‘auntie’ Stella would come around on Tuesdays Bringing treats for my brother and I as always The most exciting of these treats were ‘Smarties’ The were a bit like M & M’s except with a lot more ‘tasties’ They came in a pictured cardboard tube with a plastic cap on the top and a cardboard round sealed in the bottom The first layer of excitement was levering off the plastic cap with the thumb These caps were red, blue, green or yellow with a recess like a drum On the underside of the cap was always a letter of the alphabet I would often collect them to spell words that I’d met
The smarties themselves were candy coloured brown, blue, yellow, orange, green and red and was often flavoured like its colour said
Once inside was the treasure I liked the most Yum milk chocolate I say with no boast
I would empty all the smarties out of the tube and put the same of each colour together… I had my favourite, of course, which was the dark brown… it was complete bliss and took the crown
I would save them until last, if I could and would also swap other colours with my brother to get more dark brown from his tube
For each smartie, I would do my best to avoid the temptation to crunch, rather, just suck until the outer candy coat, got thinner and thinner, tasting the flavour as it melted until it broke up, revealing the inner milk chocolate… sometimes I could not help myself and then crunch, however if I could hang on I could feel the milk chocolate melt in my mouth before swallowing. This way the smarties lasted a while and often my tongue and lips would be a combination of all the colours in style
After uncle Bob died, I did not see Auntie Stella so much and eventually not at all… we lost touch I wonder what happened to her… Whatever it was, I am grateful for her laughter and kindness and…. the smarties :) (NRS)
When my grandson is born what will he be? His mother’s heritage from Bangladesh, his father, my son, a hybrid mix Italian, English, Scottish, Irish?
How will he be seen? By the colour of his skin? By his Islamic first name? By his Italian family name? By the place he is born? By the heritage of his parents?
I hope that when people ask in the future they ask because they are genuinely interested in finding out more about him
Not laden with tone when they ask… Where are you from? What is that accent?
Or look down their nose when they see he eats his food differently or prays on his knees
So why not just love the diversity that is created without a label, a title, defined or stated
Just noticing the gifts and talents that arrive so this little human may feel free to strive…
Because in fact what we know is that we can all be traced to many a nation
According to ancestry.com that goes way back to the beginning of our creation
TLaB 31st Oct 22
Can you see that beautiful tree Out on the horizon Looks like a silhouette Outstanding serene Unconditional silence for me Reality absorbed, peace enters my world