Saturday, 18 October 2014

what is the colour of the sky?

and I mean not the blue
that immediately springs to mind,
or the quiet milkiness
of november mornings
greeted with gratitude and prayer,
nor the extravagance of the sun
in daily descent
reminiscent of the scarab
sitting in the centre of your collarbone,

a reminder,
an amulet.

or the steel of stormy skies
that leave you with the taste
of blood in your mouth,

but the colour the street lights create -
the soft fading
of something between a blush
and a bruise
highlighting the sharp lines of rooftops
before deepening
to the dark
that was there before the beginning,
before black had a name
and the bears
just points of silver light
for us to give them meaning..


Maija said...

So, so beautiful. Your words are the most gorgeous things, please never stop writing

Wingfall at dusk said...

Wonderful! The night sky has as many colours as the day. I remember as a lad being transfixed by the certain time of dusk when the sky would turn the same blue as a bottle of Quink ink. I used to wait at the window for it. What used to amaze me was when I'd rush outside to bathe in it, it was an altogether different shade... to me it was magic and it made that deep inky blue even more special...

Wingfall at dusk said...

... I also meant to say that the giving of names is such a deep human need, isn't it? The most powerful thing for me in the biblical creation account is Adam and the naming of things. And yet, is Wittgenstein right, is our world constructed and bounded by words? This summer I was reading some Richard Mabey and he was describing how he freed himself for a while by refusing to name the flowers he saw (he is a botanist) just meeting them as things in themselves...
I have a feeling that the black you describe is purer and more profound if it has no name...

cloudgathererholdmedown said...

and not just humans ....

I am torn in my thoughts regarding the naming of things. I understand the necessity to be able to identify and I'm ever intrigued by the power and meaning behind words and the different rituals involved in name giving (to people), however labelling and the limitations and boxing in of a things by the edges a given name sends me to the other end of the spectrum!

alvaro barcala said...

Fading constellations lighting up the nothingness. Astral disasters colouring the ever lasting questions. Sparkling colours landing on our pupils after millions year-lights travelling through the eternal Now. The colours of meaning.

Love your poem, inspiring and beautiful as usual. Happy you are writting over here again.

cloudgathererholdmedown said...

dear alvaro, I'm happy you are still visiting.

I've been listening, wooden hands, nebul...your lightness of touch, swoonsome..

ellom said...

oh . . . !

cloudgathererholdmedown said...

ellom...nightland...what a beauty of a story..thank you.

ellom said...

I'm so happy to know! Thank you. It should feel at home there...

alvaro barcala said...

Thank you, and happy you are still visiting my songs :)