By: Akpan-Nya, Alexandra Emem
(2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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Is WHITE cool and silky?
Is white cold and hard?
Does it take pride in its purity or crave to be some other hue?
Trapped in woolly water as it floats in the sky, does it dream?
Does it exist solely to give light to others?
It may seem unfriendly, but I think white is very lonely.
Perhaps it longs to be a little less stark.
Maybe, just maybe, it wants to be dark.
Is BLACK pitiless and full of malice?
Or does it feel sick when unholy things hide in its belly?
Does it always smother all it touches?
Or are its depths comforting?
Is darkness a virtue? Is it a necessary cloak for light?
It may be the only thing that keeps all the white from driving us mad.
Is black villain? Or anti-hero?
I like black- it is very forgiving.
Is BLUE happy and gay?
Is it glad when the sky chooses it for a crown?
And when the sea picks it for a bride, does it dance in joyful bubbles?
It seems very happy when mixed with cool white
But what happens when blue is serious? When it sips a bit of black?
Is it sad? Is it bitter? Do we write with blue sweat?
Is it only good for covering our eyes when the new-born morn kisses fleeing night?
Blue is bittersweet ink. Blue is life.
Is GREEN jealous of the colour blue?
I know it sometimes slips into the sea’s bed.
Lurking and gleeful, letting fishes nibble on its hair.
Do you see it shake leafy fists at the sky?
Or its hostile blades fight the wind soughing over low plains?
Fallen from glory, has it taken over the Earth?
Is the horizon a line it cannot cross?
Green covets all, green steals even from the sun.
Green is vengeful. Green is nature.
Why does BROWN admire green so?
Perhaps green is its sire- brown is born of dead green.
Brown is clingy, gripping everything with wet kisses or dry hugs.
When something is forgotten, why does brown swallow it up?
Is it only a dusty blanket, shrouding old things from shame?
Ah, brown.
It settles on all. It accepts everything- dead, alive or caught in the middle.
Brown is the colour of memory.
Is RED hot to the touch?
Do other colours fear its throbbing, raw passion?
Red knows no shame. Red takes all blame.
Red runs through veins above and below the ground.
Within the green and brown earth, red pulses.
It is the fire that keeps our hearts warm?
Is red primal instinct we have learned to forget?
Red is power. Red is fear.
Is YELLOW truly happy, or is it insane?
Does it laugh when it lashes the earth with the sun’s rays?
Does its smile reach its eyes? Do crazed maggots writhe behind its teeth?
See how it pushes the green aside and pretends to be a bright flower?
See how it fades when you turn away.
Yellow is sneaky. Yellow means rot.
I don’t like yellow very much.
And those colours with unclear ids?
ORANGE is red’s baby, born of yellow.
Orange is powerful deceit.
PURPLE is blue stricken silent with red pain.
And INDIGO is the colour of its grief.
GREY is peaceful.
Grey is the balance that is sometimes death.
Grey is everything in-between.
Maybe, Grey is God.
(2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)Loading...
First Published @ The Kalahari Review
Akpan-Nya, Alexandra Emem is a Nigerian writer and poet. Educated in the sciences, she has short stories and poems published in various blogs. She loves to scribble and play with original ideas and has a fascination for speculative fiction and children literature. Her interests include dabbling in flash fiction, travelling and sneakers. She dreams of writing norm-breaking bestsellers that will inspire deep thought and the occasional chuckle. You can see more of her work on her blog
