At this time of year in New England, we live in a world of autumn colors. The trees wear crowns of red, orange, and yellow leaves. People plant hardy annuals in a myriad of colors—including gold, purple, and cranberry. I see Marge Piercy’s poem, posted below, as a celebration of colors--and love.
COLORS PASSING THROUGH US
by Marge Piercy
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.
You can read the rest of the poem here.
At Wild Rose Reader, I have two poems about autumn leaves—one by Robert Frost and an original poem I wrote many years ago.
Today’s Poetry Friday Roundup is at Two Writing Teachers.
You can read the rest of the poem here.
At Wild Rose Reader, I have two poems about autumn leaves—one by Robert Frost and an original poem I wrote many years ago.
Today’s Poetry Friday Roundup is at Two Writing Teachers.
3 comments:
What are the odds - out of all the poems in the world - that we'd both choose the same one for the same Poetry Friday?
I like the way you added color to yours!
And the 2 posts were adjacent in my Google Reader.
I read the poem twice, approaching it first from the perspective of marriage (7-Imp's post was first) and then from a non-human earthy, color-only perspective.
Neat experience. Thanks!
Eisha,
One Poetry Friday a few months ago three of us bloggers posted the same poem. What are the odds of hat happening?
Jen,
It was interesting reading Eisha's post about Piercy's poem. It's funny how we read poems and what they can mean to us--and how we can even read them differently on different days depending on our frame of mind.
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