Colors

[hack]

I can hear the color blue,
sometimes the sky speaks to me
in clipped foreign syllables
that I never understand.

I can feel yellow-orange,
warming these bones
with a smoldering caress
from arms that are not there.

I can taste chocolate brown,
bittersweet, biting back,
leaving me in wonder
of supple, sun-darked skin.

But most, I smell the green earth,
and scent the memory of home,
and know that, though it is no more,
I will return one day.

[hillwalker]

I like this one very much, hack. Engaging all the senses in a clever way.

[tailor STATELY]

Beautiful poem hack.

[Hawkman]

In every conceivable sense of the word, this is sensational hack.

Best, H

[Delta40]

thanks Hack
You have underlined the importance of colour in our lives

[Bar22do]

I can hear the color blue,
sometimes the sky speaks to me
in clipped foreign syllables
that I never understand.

I can feel yellow-orange,
warming these bones
with a smoldering caress
from arms that are not there.

I can taste chocolate brown,
bittersweet, biting back,
leaving me in wonder
of supple, sun-darked skin.

But most, I smell the green earth,
and scent the memory of home,
and know that, though it is no more,
I will return one day.

"scenting the memory of home" has just been my experience as I went on my first walk in the morning street and cypresses stately moving in the breeze gave off their subtle familiar scent...
Your senses evoke ephemeral presences who are the poem's essence as I believe... a gem. Bar

[PrinceMyshkin]

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,

'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.


goes the wonderful Quaker song and how well it applies to this elegant poem.

[blank|verse]

Yeah, nice exploration of synaesthesia, hack. The final stanza resolves things well, giving a rather melancholy contrast to the vividness of life.