Is a rose by any other name, the same? Does a name matter?
Each week The Sunday Whirl invites writers to write a poem or short prose using some or all of the “wordle’s” 12 words. This week it is:
In the Scheme of Things
In the scheme of things I have
how each color was named;
from the simple and
to the ornate and euphoric,
such as alizarin crimson,
which is also quite frivolous,
and has an audible affect
like a tenderly blown kiss coupled
with a slow wink.
But who created the name caput mortuum?
A gnarled brown.
An apocalyptic description,
Was the hand of God involved?
could not have named colors. I
have no inkling
about these matters. I
would have been very speedy in
Give me this one.
Give me that one.
Give me the one over there.
If there were more than three colors,
I might have said,
Throw me the one that looks like poppies,
or toss me the one that’s like an apple.
How about that strange one, yes,
the one that looks like turnip roots.
If I felt particularly erudite, I
might have said, pass me that one that looks like
a reflecting mountain lake,
or like my grandmother’s wiry bobby pinned hair,
or maybe, even,
the one that looks like my baby son’s arse,
But I could never create such figurative or literary names
as: heliotrope, icterine, phlox, verdigris or wenge.
And as an epilogue to this whole affair,
I’ll try to stick with the primary, secondary, and tertiary colors,
of which there are thirteen, if you throw in white;
thirteen like the apostles, if you throw in Jesus;
thirteen like numbers on the face of a clock,
if you throw in the eternal return to the thirteenth hour.
But mysticism was never my forte,
and that’s why I couldn’t name colors,
or call things other than what they are;
which is simply this, or that,
or the other.
I know that feeling with the names of colors. Would love to write the sky was robin’s egg blue but if the person doesn’t know what shade blue the egg, It hurts the blue. As somebody who works with colors in Photoshop and painter, ugh- too many choices or too hard to get the shade you want.
CMYK is almost as infinite as the limits of the universe.
If you squint hard enough, you might see the edges of it.
But I could never be sure, for sure.
thanks for commenting. Randy
Nice Randy – it has always seemed to me that there’s a true language which brought the world into being….
In the beginning, there was the word… n’cest pas?
Wait, or was it a mathematical formula, or just thought?
I’ll leave it all for others who like to bike and drink root beer.
I wish I would have known you were down here in Boca and Delray. If you come again, let me know…. Randy
yes, the word has the miracle feel.
I have one or two more trips down – I will certainly touch base with you. Probably before the end of the year.
good. I’ll look forward to hearing from you. Randy
Maybe I’ll see if Jan can come too.
That would be wonderful. I’ll bring my wife, Debbie, too.
This is such a fun splash of words….your play on thirteen was my favourite verse too…very clever
that was such a fun thing to write, “a splash of words”.
I like that painter’s touch. thanks, Randy
Naming things appears to be pure vanity or plain cussedness. However in our perverse way we will embrace one yet hate another without knowledge of its origin.
Makes you stop and think, doesn’t it? Randy