A Schism To Show A Prism Is Prose

Red is a feeling

Rage and restraint

Red is the blood boil that makes you feel faint

I keep mine well bottled for fear of its taint, I know the taste well; far from a saint

Red is a gift from my father gone vintage, when he uncorked you knew he would sink it

Firewine burns hot so my own tongue was singed quick

Bottle distilled into fists and fury to tattoo my skin with

Birds of a feather flew far from his wings tip

Orange is a feeling

Passionate poetry’s pull

Orange is the smile that bursts out when your full

A joy so simple and sometimes quite small, like catching the ricochet of wall bouncing ball

It cannot be planned or summoned on cue, but when it springs forth it’s always in view

It’s divine inspiration, it’s never a ruse, it’s a giggling spew and it’s wiggling through

Orange is red mixed with mellow yellow infused

Now we’re sipping the juice of different hues

Yellow is a feeling

Sunshine and starlight serene

Yellow is closing your eyes to feel the tickle of breeze

It’s the slow exhalation as you try to just breathe, the tendril of energy connected to trees

I always keep yellow closely to hand, I need it a lot and mostly unplanned

In moments of pressure I bury my head in the sand

A minute of darkness to see stars on demand

Take time to bend and then you can stand

Green is a feeling

It’s nature unleashed

The sensation of grass pressed under your feet

It’s vibrant and lovely from toes to your teeth, connection to earth and all that we meet

Green is my sister, safety and calm, when I burn myself red she’s quick with the balm

Keeps me grounded with roots so I can cloud charm

I can only take flight thanks to her guiding arm

Nurturing nature seed clenched in my palm

Blue is a feeling

It’s sorrow but nice

Like a hug from a flame when covered in ice

It can come unwelcome on loneliest nights, but this life is made better with all flavours of spice

I find a small warmth in the bite of the frost, in memory of those whose fire we’ve lost

It’s far more cold to let that sadness be squashed

We are made harder through moments so soft

Bittersweet blue should never be tossed

Indigo is a feeling

It’s the flow of this poem

A schism to show a prism is prose

A mix of blue up above and violet below

We are all prisms each and every soul

A vessel at first seeming to hold

Colour as a unified whole

But its beauty unfolds

Violet is a feeling

It’s rich and it’s kind

The love of the heart and the mind combined

Finding sight when you’ve been living life blind, the kiss of the moon and sun intertwined

Violet is in the swing of a bell clang, it’s ying and it’s yang, the boom of the big bang

It’s my mother and the echo of the lullabies she sang

It’s the way her mood swang like a boomerang

The field of flowers she grew me unthanked