AN: This prompt was a response poem, so we had to pick someone's poem from the class and then... well, respond to it ^-^ I was responding to one of my friends poem where she realizes the true meaning of the color orange in a metaphoric/ figurative way. Anywhodle, enjoy!
Orange wouldn't be the first color I turn to,
I agree with you.
To me it was a crayon
used to fill in the sloppy rays of the sun
on a kindergarten coloring assignment.
It was waxy American cheese
flopped on a disgusting home-made sandwich.
Orange was the background.
I don't think I ever learned what it truly meant.
Before your words opened my mind,
my orange was covered by different colours,
they were all I could see.
For you, transition was orange,
I saw yellow.
Yellow, like a 'danger ahead' sign
warning me not to transition
to never move forward for fear I may be hurt.
And when orange to you meant joy,
I saw green.
Green like nature and trees,
the spirit of being wild and free.
And no matter how hard I tried
to mix my two colours
the result was a lighter green.
Then I realized,
in the right light and a different state of mind
those yellow signs appear as orange.
And when the sun,
no longer an effortless scribble,
melts day into the sleeping green leaves
oranges bounces just above the horizon.
Finally I saw it.
Your orange.
I could picture the wise old man with grey eyes
looking upon his wife
for the first time.
I could see the rolling hills
painted in sunshine.
And although it blinded my eyes,
I saw the beauty.
"Orange sits behind"
however, if I tilt my head just right,
orange peeks through the cracks.
It lounges in the corner of lips
raising them into a breath-taking smile.
It blends into the sunset,
my mother's favorite color.
And is weaved into the flower-printed sundresses
worn at Easter.
Our orange isn't the same,
many differences remain.
Yours was a bright layer that brought life
into the gloom left behind by blue.
Mine was a coward hiding behind
the comfort of green and yellow.
But, your orange showed me
that the background
is just as important as the main picture.
Now,
my orange is a flower
blossoming into new beginnings
and possibly endings.
It's an orange that can mean more
than the color that holds its name.
And the possibilities are endless
thanks to you.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry From a not so Poetic Poet
PoetryThis is a collection of the poems I wrote for my Creative Writings class. I will try my best to provide the prompt I was given to write the poem before each one. Feel free to create your own as well, I would love to read what you guys come up with...
