Poetry in April: About Color

Today is the third Thursday of the National Poetry Month, and this week we're sharing poems about color. When I think about color right now, I think about all the spring flowers that are blooming and the trees and shrubs pushing out new growth. The colors of spring are always the treat that makes getting through the gray months of winter worth it. So I found this poem, which made me think of what I have seen growing in my neighborhood and also about how Mother Nature is the most talented artist of all.

Iris
by Sujata Bhatt

Her hand sweeps over the rough grained paper,

then, with a wet sponge, again.

A drop of black is washed grey,

cloudy as warm breath fogging cool glass.

She feels she must make the best of it,

She must get the colour of the stone wall,

of the mist settling around twisted birch trees.

Her eye doesn't miss the rabbit crouched,

a tuft of fog in the tall grass.

Nothing to stop the grey sky from merging into stones,

or the stone walls from tailing off into sky.

But closer, a single iris stands fully opened:

dark wrinkled petals, rain-moist,

the tall slender stalk sways, her hand follows.

Today, even the green is tinged with grey,

the stone's shadow lies heavy over the curling petals

but there's time enough, she'll wait,

study the lopsided shape.

The outer green sepals once enclosing the bud

lie shrivelled: empty shells spiralling

right beneath the petals.

As she stares the sun comes out.

And the largest petal flushes

deep deep violet.

A violet so intense it's almost black.

The other tremble indigo, reveal

paler blue undersides.

Thin red veins running into yellow orange rills,

yellow flows down the green stem.

Her hand moves swiftly from palette to paper,

paper to palette, the delicate brush

swoops down, sweeps up,

move the way a bird builds its nest.

An instant and the sun is gone.

You can learn more about this poet here. Be sure to visit Kym, Bonny, and Kat today to read their selections!