"Colors Passing Through Us"
by Marge Piercy
Purple as tulips in May, mauve
into lush velvet, purple
as the stain blackberries leave
on the lips, on the hands,
the purple of ripe grapes
sunlit and warm as flesh.
Every day I will give you a color,
like a new flower in a bud vase
on your desk. Every day
I will paint you, as women
color each other with henna
on hands and on feet.
Red as henna, as cinnamon,
as coals after the fire is banked,
the cardinal in the feeder,
the roses tumbling on the arbor
their weight bending the wood
the red of the syrup I make from petals.
Orange as the perfumed fruit
hanging their globes on the glossy tree,
orange as pumpkins in the field,
orange as butterflyweed and the monarchs
who come to eat it, orange as my
cat running lithe through the high grass.
Yellow as a goat's wise and wicked eyes,
yellow as a hill of daffodils,
yellow as dandelions by the highway,
yellow as butter and egg yolks,
yellow as a school bus stopping you,
yellow as a slicker in a downpour.
Here is my bouquet, here is a sing
song of all the things you make
me think of, here is oblique
praise for the height and depth
of you and the width too.
Here is my box of new crayons at your feet.
Green as mint jelly, green
as a frog on a lily pad twanging,
the green of cos lettuce upright
about to bolt into opulent towers,
green as Grand Chartreuse in a clear
glass, green as wine bottles.
Blue as cornflowers, delphiniums,
bachelors' buttons. Blue as Roquefort,
blue as Saga. Blue as still water.
Blue as the eyes of a Siamese cat.
Blue as shadows on new snow, as a spring
azure sipping from a puddle on the blacktop.
Cobalt as the midnight sky
when day has gone without a trace
and we lie in each other's arms
eyes shut and fingers open
and all the colors of the world
pass through our bodies like strings of fire.
"Bouquet of Colors"
by Danniella Hornby
The orange of tangerine peels,
Hiding a tangy surprise inside, the orange
Of goldfish crackers that smile back at you
Of marmalade spread on burnt toast, of
Florida orange juice to start the morning, of
The carrot nose stuck on a happy snowman.
The green of a wild rainforest,
Dewey, serene and fresh, the green
Of mint chocolate chip ice cream,
Of newly ripe bananas, of
The aliens in a child’s imagination, of
Crisp green garlands at the holiday time.
The red of Valentines Day,
Romance and red lips, the red
Of the stain of annatto seeds, of
Tart cranberry juice, of
Little Red Riding Hood.
The pink of fresh cotton candy,
Dissolving sugary sweet on your tongue, the pink
Of a little girls hair bow,
Selling sweet pink lemonade at the side of the road, the pink
Of a wild Scottish salmon, of
The comical Pink Panther.
The white of a young bride’s gown,
Astounding classical elegance, the white
Of marshmallows before they’re roasted on the open fire
Of salt around a margarita glass, of
A tall and puffy chefs hat, of
A Dalmatian before he puts his spots on.
The yellow of summer pollen,
Coating everything in filmy dust, the yellow
Of soft butter on white bread
Of the yellow brick road, of
Cheese set in a mousetrap, of
A Labrador puppy licking its owners face.
A spectrum of colors,
A child finger-painting in kindergarten class
A bouquet of colors
All the colors we feel inside
The colors of our moods
The colors of our feelings.
"Never-Never"
by Marge Piercy
Missing is a pain
in everyplace
making a toothache
out of a day.
But to miss something
that never was:
the longest guilt
the regret that comes down
like a fine ash
year after year
is the shadow of what
we did not dare.
All the days that go out
like neglected cigarettes,
the days that dribble away.
How often does love strike?
We turn into ghosts
loitering outside doorways
we imagined entering.
In the lovers' room
the floor creaks,
dust sifts from the ceiling,
the golden bed has been hauled away
by the dealer
in unused dreams.
"Just to Laugh"
by Danniella Hornby
Happiness is elation
Tingling all over
Everyone laughing together
Chuckling to yourself
A contagious feeling
To laugh for no reason
Just because
Find happiness in all the places
You never looked before
To busy to notice, too busy
To find something special in everyone
Day after day
Frowning outside
Smiling inside
Holding a secret
That’s just so funny
Everything makes you laugh
Finding humor in things
That aren’t supposed to be funny
Shouldn’t make you laugh
But they just do
What’s harder?
Explaining why you’re laughing
Or finding someone to laugh with
