Posted on Leave a comment

Colour – poetic expression

‘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.

Carl Linnaeus

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

PJR    31.10.2022


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
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

CCon 31st October 22

Sign up here for our newsletter

Sign up to start your journey towards improving your health and wellness and deeper happiness. You will not be spammed. and we take your privacy seriously.

Leave a Reply