Why do all our memories fade out to pastels? The dulling of the colors, the muffling of the bells? Often we discover that a happening once dated becomes a strain of music half-remembered, mostly faded, and we labor to remember a life so full and vast that fades down to a shadow relegated to the past. Better to infuse the present with such light that all its various colors shine out vividly and bright.
Green with envy, soylent green. Green’s a color I find mean. When mold takes over a machine, you can bet that it is green. Green clogs up locks and fouls my nose. Leaves a nostril when it blows. Green is such a rank beginner that it cannot be a winner. Green is nasty. Green takes hold. The color of algae and mold. It invades when you’re not looking. Raids the fridge to ruin your cooking. With other colors you can be friends, from the beginning, or make amends. But green is stubborn, nasty, greedy. If green had eyes, they would be beady. So if you’re looking for a hue that will be good friends with you. Pick yellow or aquamarine. But I’d advise you don’t pick green!
Thanks to Lynda Early for the prompt of “green” given to me in our writer’s group for our 20 minute writing. I seem to no longer be able to write without a prompt.
Morrie Gets a Pedicure, and Other Burnt Orange Delights.
Yes, I was surprised that Morrie took so well to being pampered with an on-site bath, blow-dry, grooming and pedicure. (This enterprising young man has started a business where he comes to your house to groom and wash your dog. He seems to be popular as he was booked solid for a week. Fortunately, he had an appointment with a dog a block away from me so although I’m 5 km. out of town, he just worked me in after his other appointment.) Morrie was a bit rank. Hated to leave him with the house sitter in that condition. And yes, I was proud of the boy. And yes, he immediately went down and rolled in the dirt and the grass. A fella’s gotta have some pride, much as he seemed to enjoy the attention.
This is a very strange poem written at an exceedingly early hour to the prompt: Orange Bone (If you read this on the Reader, you won’t see all facets of the poem. You must go to my site to do so.)
Mexico has tickled my orange bone–
every sedate instinct concerning décor flown out the window like a freed hummingbird.
A bright gold house with fuchsia trim. Orange living room with blue and green and red arches.
Denim blue entryway and chartreuse hall.
A turquoise beam in the pumpkin kitchen.
If you have a bone to pick with me over my choice of colors,
it will tickle my funny bone tell you
that I am bone tired
of beige and cream and grey.
Any bonehead can paint a house eggshell or vanilla.
Use marrow of bone
to flavor the soup,
but give me colors that will stir my crazy bone.
Give me cinnamon, mustard, raspberry, persimmon.
Those are colors to make a meal of.
These colors excite and wear me out–
make me bone lazy.
with paint under my fingernails.
Vivid. Flashing. Vibrant.
Colors that have satisfied