POETIC BLOOMINGS

POETIC BLOOMINGS is a Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild site established in May 2011 to nurture and inspire the creative spirit.

REFRACTED HUES – PROMPT #6

The palette is in full array and the world is awash with color. This week’s prompt is that simple: Color.  Write about a color. Write a colorful image without mentioning the color at all. You are the poet/artist. You paint the masterpiece with words as your medium. Color my world; it’s all good.

Marie Elena’s coloring:

MY HEART TURNS TOWARD YOU

Perched above, on weathered stone,
I drink in the autumn colors
below and about.
My eyes see, but they cannot grasp
the full wonder.

And my heart turns toward You.

You paint the scene before me,
with a palette mixed by Your own Hand.
You fashion the vista,
continually blending color;
the scene ever changing at Your whim.

Your sun travels across the canvas,
altering hues as it gently falls
as a silk scarf in scarce breeze.
Gold catches my eye, where it was shadowed
only moments ago.

Leaves, as scarlet as turned rubies,
shimmer, then fade.
Clouds veil Your sun.
Emerald, pumpkin, alabaster, and onyx
gleam against a silver sky.

Crickets sing, while hawk calls.
Trickling water chuckles in the distance.
Limbs moan with the breeze.
Crisp leaves crunch beneath the weight
of Your forest creatures.

Nature’s song is broken by two who happen on this path.
They pause to survey the wonder below, and about.
Their chatter halts,
as they are overtaken in awe
of the magnificent display.

The moment of silence breaks, with a nearly whispered
“Oh my God – look at this.”
I smile.
Do they know they have just paid homage
to The Artist?

And my heart turns toward You.

Walt’s rendering:

THE BLUSH OF SPRING

Her cheeks flush;
the crimson spreading
to her heart
and her lips.
A young man’s fancy turns with
the blush of her cheek.

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22 thoughts on “REFRACTED HUES – PROMPT #6

  1. SEVEN VISIONS OF COLOR 1Yellow afternoon appearsOrange at sunset,Red at sundown. 2Your hair, ebonyIn yellow moonlight,Green in tree shadows. 3Blue ocean wavesLift white capsTowards solar red. 4Blood red lipsKiss blue princessesAwake. Gold dawn. 5These purple eggplants,Pale brown, simmeringIn gray pan. 6I asked RoseIf her brownTerrier was yellow. 7Love’s color red?if green thriving;Black if unrequited. #

  2. I. Clouded skies,drizzly fog,moonless nights,ancient winter,snow on snow,thawing browns-an achromatic world,without you.II. Golden corals of sunrise,blushing yellows of noontime, irised purples of twilight,variegated greens of springtime,cloudless blues of summer,passionate reds of autumn, prism of a rainbow’s smile,beam of a copper moon-my world,colored with you.

  3. Oops, forgot the title – should be "Color My World"

  4. I'm posting for Jane Shlensky, who still is having trouble doing anything but reading here. She's visiting me tomorrow, so we'll work on it. For now, though:Garden ArtROYGBIV—we memorized this friendly acronym, pointed toward our crayonboxes with each wax sticklabeled, but color did notlive in a box of worn wax.We imagined a kindly man in overalls, Mother Nature’sgardener, our Roy, an earthy dirt-squeezing gentleman, conversant with leaf shapes and tints, fruiting vines, sun-kissed citrus, berries, tomatoes, radishes, and ripened squash, their waxy necks entwined.His middle initial conjuredfreshly mowed lawns, string beanshanging from staked vines, cucumbers,lettuce, cabbage, jungle-striped fleshy-hearted melons, corn stalks and pale ears, pearly kernels hidden in layered shucks, the foliage of all vegetable life.Mr. Biv, we imagined, had his grower’s thumb involved in every step of gardening,pocketing seed pods, shelling sunflowers for birds of every feather—grosbeaks, chickadees,cardinals, finches—rushingto feed at his hands,his head firmly planted in the overarching depth of sky, thundering clouds a lullaby to his ears, piqued for the plunk of droplets on dry soil, his nosetweaked for the smell of ripeningand ozone after rain, his eyes lifted for the promise of rainbows, the magic of mixing life with life to createnew hues.

  5. Sal–really love your take on changing colorsSize Doesn't MatterBy SaravStretched out on brittle barkHe's almost invisibleThree inches of six foot attitudeWhen I walk by, he pumps outOne push-up, two andFlashes his warning flagA brilliant sun-set hue

  6. Attention GetterPassion, energyGlowing warmth, friendliness, smiles Laughs, splashes, sunshine Friends singing around campfiresAdventure, fun, happinessPumpkins, yams, carrotsTiger lilies, marigoldsAutumn leaves, sunsets Peaches, kumquats, nectarinesMonarch butterflies, clownfish

  7. BlossomSweet spot of white in             a monochromatic world,bohemian butterfly             emerging from verdant asylum,             spot of wild whiteness                      within a peaceful crowd of greenachromatic star in leaves of grass,             celestial blossom.

  8. I'll be back when I've stewed down some.the Transmutation of Anger poemhe Saw the Lightclearlywhen he was nine;began to preach the wordat fifteen.then, black and white were pure, so pure.along the way, he learnedincrementsof gray, and blending.what loss,not to have seen in godlight, bending.

  9. An Old AcquaintanceUpon entering his roomthere he was on his sidesickly, writhing in painjawbones juttedcheeks collapsedeyes fixated on vanityLittle to no response as I called his namenothing but a grimace or gruntand gazing upon himI knew and rememberedwho he wasDeathAn old acquaintanceSomeone I don't like to see very oftenI recognize him,that faceYou came to take awaymy friendand have succeeded You won, this timeWell, DeathI have one thing to say to youand that isYour end will comeand your time is nearwhen your reign will be no moreand your authority will be relinquished So don't pride yourself in taking away my friendMaybe one day he will rise againThen what will you do? You will be openly put to shameBut only time will tell of your defeat

  10. Still can't log in so…Michael Grove Says:Red SkiesThe sailor at sea so delighted.A fire in his eye was ignited.So he sailed on at seain his ship gracefullytoward horizons of red skies now lighted.The view from his helm would astoundas he sailed on toward much higher ground.Red skies pierced the cloudwhile the wind cried out loud,“You’re the captain, turn this ship around.”Still the red skies at night kept on calling.while the stars in his sky kept on falling.Was so simple it seemsin his net full of dreamsto catch what his visions kept stalling.Still he captained his ship all alone.Behind the huge wheel was his throne.The strong winds blew with forceyet he stayed right on courseand he sailed on toward dreams of his own.By Michael Grove

  11. Michael Grove said:Paint Me A RainbowI felt the love arc over all the pain.I’ve had a lot of sunshine with my rain.I’ve seen the light of dayas it helped to light my way.Now, paint me a rainbow in another plane.Paint me a rainbow pretty baby.Two hearts of gold with shiny keys.Paint me a rainbow on a canvas full of love.Paint me a rainbow, pretty please.Paint me a rainbow with the red that makes you whole.Paint the orange band with the glow from a hot coal.Arc Yellows, greens and blues,always bright and happy huesWith the indigo and violet for my soul.Paint me a rainbow pretty baby.Two hearts of gold with shiny keys.Paint me a rainbow on a canvas full of love.Paint me a rainbow, pretty please.By Michael Grove

  12. my love is a poetwho shines like goldhe weaves wordsof silk and lovestretched tightacross his webfrom whichno heart can escapehe paints me rosehe paint me blackand every colour of the rainbowin fact

  13. The variety here always amazes me. I LOVE reading them all!

  14. P.S. So good to see Benjamin and Sarah joining us!!

  15. Polka Dot PlantGray clouds hovered in my eyes threatening to expose mypain at any moment.It was spring, but I saw no pastels.Only the dull brown of depressionobscuring my view.So people sent flowers. Red and orangeand lilac and white and dead. At least,they ended up dead after a week.A gesture to console, conjuring onlysorrow as each day another witheredpetal fell, signaling a new death to mourn.And then, a little yellow pot was placed in my hands, full of sunshine and green leavesspeckled pink. Comforting and warm.Hardy, even when ignored. A small drinkrevived it's vibrant hues and it grew for meuntil all the colors were here again.

  16. Late to the party this week. Great stuff, gang. Here's mine: Tahoe BlueIt’s the funk she feels when the world is too real, and there’s not enough moon to light these waveless nights. It’s the hue she paints on to placate her toes when her lake ache burns deep and the weeks drag by, dry. It’s the hope in her heart as the calendar turns and her fingertips yearn for sandy sun-kissed paper, inky azure pen. It’s the ripples of water from her kayak’s oar and the echoes of her children’s laughter from a certain slice of shore. It’s the true reflection of herself in perfect turquoise glass in a place that tunes her soul and ever loves her back. de

  17. THE COLORS OF MY DAYBlack.The inky darknessthat envelopes me.Gray.The dreary cloudthat covers my days.Blue.My eyes, like pools of water,filled with tears.Red.My nose,sore from blowing.Green.The color I seeon the other side of the fence.Purple.The bruise that ismy broken heart.Yellow.The brilliance of sunshinethat I trust will shine on my world once more.2011-06-07P. Wanken~Paula

  18. Everyone has posted such marvelous work. Loved reading everything so far. Keep up the good work, Marie and Walt. You must be doing something right. I hope this little piece qualifies.Flake PowerIt began with feather lightness,The blanket that covered my world.Fruits hiding next to cardinal’s wingShivered beneath blanket’s touch.Stealth created lingering impact,The blanket that covered my world.Within hours only deepest pine scent Remained to witness needled-trees existence.Gentle doves disappeared withinThe blanket that covered my world.Only men’s bright-hued machines failTo fade from sight within its rolling folds.Night crept in again to claim sight’s sounds,The blanket that covered my worldHad returned for an encore performanceAnd to relieve color’s burden for show.Claudsy

  19. BEAUTY PAGEANT BLUES“If you were a color what would it be?”This was clearly notin the preparation materials.“Yellow.” she replied. “Why?” they queried. How does one pick a color to be?Does it depend on a mood, a feeling, a situation?Is there a wrong or right choice?What will it reveal?Earlier, she felt green with nausea; now, she was feeling pink with embarrassment.She chose the color absent from the room.But it wasn’t enough, they needed to know why."Because yellow is bright and cheerful and sunny";(UNLIKE those posing the questions).A few more moments, then “Thank you.” She moves out of the room to await their decision;would she ultimately be blue?~Kellyhttp://livingfourreal.blogspot.com/

  20. Good morning, PBs Poets! If the author of the anonymous piece that begins, "my love is a poet" would like to remain anonymous, that's certainly fine. However, if you were just having trouble signing in, please let us know who you are. I know if I had penned this lovely piece, I'd want my name attached. ;)Loving the work out here, all! Marie Elena

  21. It is true that commenting on blogspot is a huge trial of patience!QuiltingTwirling and swirling they harmoniseas pinpoints of colour dance in the air:motes in sunshine through prism of eyes.Light or heavy, bright or sombreshades in symbiotic rhythm.Multiple drifts in glorious arraycompelled to obey the rules of colour.

  22. Totally loved works this week. Besides our "picks," Salvatore and De blew me away! And Kelly, I love "She chose the color absent from the room."

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