Roses are red (sometimes) Violets aren’t blue (they’re violet) Old Mother Hubbard went to her refrigerator While the cow jumped over a low fence And Jack Sprat’s wife had a heart attack. Of all things in the universe, living and non-living, we are unique because of our personage.
It is beauty, the absence of light, absorbing all around it, a color without hue, some say it represents darkness, but I do not. We bend our heads to its solemnity and authority; the color of mourning. It portends death, evil, witches and magic, secrets, violence, the end of things; to burn. Dull and flat, … Continue reading Black
I saw you in this light, between the calm stability of blue and the fierce energy of red. I was young then and only knew your creativity, wisdom, dignity, your mystery and magic. Our coming together was rare, it had a special meaning, uplifting, calming. But there were times when you were too violet, too … Continue reading Violet
I never knew you once, but I will write your story. You were like the sky and the sea, and all open spaces of freedom, intuition, imagination, and inspiration. Those who knew your life knew the depth of your trust, loyalty, your young wisdom and faith. Your color invokes tranquility on the mind and body. … Continue reading Blue
I met you only once. In the summer before you passed, just before the century you shared with Canada. You gave me a dollar, green, like you. You fed me pönnukökur and confessed that Aunty Siggy had broken her hip and couldn’t come to see me. You had the healing power, restful, relaxing to my … Continue reading Green