The depth of the ocean absorbing the color from the sky
the crashing waves like clouds in the ocean
The heart of the forest shedding its green hue to a passing brown
the natural life to death, shared by all living
The core of the flames lashing out with its orange fingers
disrupting, destroying, turning black as night
The vibrant yellow of our sun it's grasp reaching out
both destruction and life in one single entity
The red of our blood coursing through our veins
we bleed it,we shed it, we share it
Whatever that exists here,
seemed to me as mediocrity
until you stood in front of me.
You reflect all sober elements
into the colours of spectrum
like a prismatic medium.
Shades of red, depicted love
The colour blue, warmth
Lilac, was definitely a charm.
*****, we associated yellow,
Purity was showed by green
And orange remained serene.
Slowly everything became gray,
The blackness taking over us,
White light turning to dust.
Where did you go, I need you
My life seems colorless now,
Happy am I? Tell me how!
to the colours of our life
Myriad prismatic crystals,
refract the morning sun-streams -
painting layers of spectral arches
across the misted horizon.
Eyes turned to the western skies,
we suspend our meteorological selves
acquiescing to miracles unveiled before us -
un-beckoned and scarcely earned,
proffering thanks for the radiant epistle
of healing, hope and promise,
artfully encoded in transfigured light.
A luminary ballet takes center stage
when synthetic refractors come to play:
crystal pendants bathe our foyers
with dazzling swaths of color.
Hazy coronas encircle streetlamps
discovered by headlights through the fog.
A science class prism slices light rays
into pre-ordered spectral strata.
If the sky denies us a rainbow,
we can always fashion one of our own
and we do!
Before there was music,
bird songs brushed our souls
and the murmur of woodland streams
held us captive by their banks.
Soon we learned to sing and tint the air
With prisms of wood and wire and metal
and to color soundscapes in our spirits
With songs of wonder, joy and longing.
Before there was music,
bird songs brushed our souls.
Robert Charles Howard, 2019
This is a rewrite and expansion of a prior poem called Morning Rainbow. The poems are design to go with an original piece for solo flute also called Prisms.
No twinkling red giant star
Glistens with more red than your lips.
No verdant green of prairie grass
Can be more fertile than your hips.
The sky’s blue hues from morn to night,
Are pale against your royal soul.
The softened tan of perfect skin
Colors my heart out of control.
The yellow sun is cold and dark
When your aura is on display.
Like whitest white more blameless than
A child on his very birthday.
In you is all that can be seen,
In ways that colors only know.
Your gifts of beauty more vast than
The colors across the rainbow.
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men and women are forced in to boxes and labeled
with no room to grow
told that colors you wear make you a boy or girl
the clothes you wear, the things you do
how you act
for some reason
make you only a boy or girl
*** and gender are two different things, and we’re taught growing up to fit a certain mold
My mind is filled with scraps of poetry
The words he owes to me
I will never get back
The fact I failed to submit
Shows I'm only bones
And the range of the water
I have been given
Has out lived the living
But the waves of the yesterdays
Like blue days of a dream
The scheme of things have played out
My food for thought
Was laid out
On the couch where we said
Monsters hide at night in bed
And tell you to give up the dream
Of winning faith and dying clean
And if the thing of things must be
The living clean
The way I live
Or never have lived
Could not hold up the way of the shiv
And if the living hope to live
Or love or all
Then washing over once was dry
Will flood the eyes of beggars choicey
a whole spectrum of color
continuously poured into my eyes
as i walked between leaves, under the bright sun
and time, past and present, whipped past me,
faster and faster, as i strolled through this garden.
my nose twitched to every new smell
bakery, vanilla, lavender,
my mother's cooking
this creamy, lovely perfume
my nose twitched to my childhood
i stopped along this path
to find it suddenly became night.
i peered into the leaves for light,
and was granted visions from other perspectives.
other people. such bright lives.
i came across my own vision.
it was of the present.
i saw myself peering into leaves,
during the middle of the night.
i turned and saw myself.
a reflection? i snapped.
the colors disappeared.
the smells refused to come close to me.
the beach was close by.
where am i?
on the way home
one thought fought every other:
that truly was
the garden of dreams.
until next time, until i see you again, goodbye.
Can you clear this up for me?
I was told autism is a 'spectrum disorder'
It is Autism Spectrum Disorder
Spectrum means a circle of unless colours in different shades
Light or dark
Hot or cold
So why is it rated by functionality?!
I am 'high functioning', I can succeed in life with no support.
If that is the truth
Why do I panic at every sound?
Why can't I process information?
Why am I not as social than I should be?
I know someone who is 'low functioning'
I am told they won't succeed at life
But they draw beautiful pictures
So does that mean they will not succeed?
So tell me
Is the spectrum a lie?
Or is the functionality a myth?
When you were mine
I always saw specks of blue
In rivers, oceans, and spread across the sky
On butterfly wings, blue jay's, and flooding feilds of blue bonnets
Yes, within my lovers eyes that blue was mine
When you walked away
You took that color with you
And once again my world was monochrome
I thought I had found my colorwheel
But now I've found the spectrum to be larger than that pitiless hue
One day I will find
Someone who will make my world explode
With a kaleidoscope of all these colors that I've never known
As if their very breath gives life to such sights
And in my view they will stay, for this I'll get on my knees and pray