Flowers painted
Underneath fragile layers
Of skin

Colourful reminders
Behind glasses
On a cloudy day
Swollen memories
Enveloping happy days
Of compromise

A total absence of colour
Blinding
But allows

A new creation
A blank page
Unfolded no flaws
A cry
But white is silence

A beginning
No given direction
Loss
But a chance to be

Anything

Green fibres
filter sunlight
to wake me

from emerald dreams
of dark humidity
deep forests
of potent life
Green eyes
watch me
from underneath
my green
pillow

Red are the violent floods of passion and rage
sometimes love
sometimes national pride
and ancestry
in my blood
in our flag
and my dreams at night.

Red is fire
and ***
Red is anger and lust
desire

Red is me
I am
The Red Dragon

Black is where we hide
Black are the shades
into which we are shied

and black are the words we speak
when we don’t expect to be heard
because language has already died
with everything else

Black
Like savage shipwrecked souls
with no chance of salvage
black because no one tried

She dreamt
That an artist would get his blue
From the deep Northern seas
Of her eyes

She dreamt
That his brush would catch fire
From the blazing flames
In her hair

She dreamt
That the poet lost his breath
From trying to find his words
Between her silent lips

Glorious!    Immortal!

Like runes

Your words
carved

Into my soul