How I Wrote the Poem Colors
Red ocher is associated with the earth’s color and burials. It is the ground. Red is a soil that grows harvests. It is associated with blood. The word ocher is sweet to the mouth like dominant vowel sounds.
Theology is a subject taken by philosophy students, as this poem is addressed to vocations. That time, I remember one, wearing a cool blue shirt.
I am showing a stage in “Down rolls a canary wing draping a stage between now and tomorrow. Literally, the stage is draped with a yellow curtain as compared to a real canary with beautiful wings. Also, there is light between time zones of now and tomorrow.
Your kiss is my fantasy. Your kiss is the sweetest ever. It is a kind perfection to my reality as Plato’s Utopia.
The love poem which can never happen becomes real in words of fiction. I live in this world. A writer lives in her creation. The zeal in the work completes the work. The writer’s purpose is a structured passion.
One highlight in the poem is life and journey of each one of us, of holy workers, and of those who sail, among others. It is a ferry (like the Memphis Ferry, On Translating Hieroglyphic Love Songs by John l. Foster). Take note that ideogrammatic language is automatically the language of poetry like imagism of Ezra Pound.
The passion of this love rows dancing suns from heaven and bright shafts of authentic dusk and dawn. I remember “Gottadamerung” (twilight of the gods). It is our twilight. That is the power of our love. That love is only coming from one Father of all, our one God. It is a blessing for everyone. You are no exception. I offer this poem for you.
The recurrences of images like rainbows after bliss, like seeing the rainbow every morning with you, or praying together come. The mirage of these images are enchanting, as dramatizing moments of being.
The poem is a cross of a narrative, lyric, and personal poetry. I want it to represent a strength of attachment that genuinely endures the looming separation.
Love gathers dug in generations of transient hues is a metaphor of the painted texts. Go figure!
Literally, I send on my phone “I miz u.” Note the language used in contemporary literature, shortened text messages, chat, tablets, and mobile phones. The poem lives in the 21st century, the spread of new technology and wires.
Therefore, the poem is a zeal from the saints that the words come to be.
The poem expresses an intense emotion, graphic of texts and life in the time of Pope Benedict XVI (Joseph Aloisious Ratzinger) and Pope Francis I (Jorge Mario Bergoglio).
Serious readers of poetry can depict in the context fire and tongues, passion, the Holy Spirit and charity; the Trinity. The climax came into the poem showing a great good harvest for the world, as flourishing bright green.
In sturdy night graves, I mean holy Saints, angels and the faithful departed. We have to pray! I call science as the black bulls that must obey the omnipotent.
Finally, I wait in the poem with Jesus on the cross. I am in all places with you in prayer.
Love suffices in one Sacred Heart!
The chant begs in “Kirye…”
For me there is no other way, but to love.
Hence the poem ends with the heart’s message, “Luv u baby.”
I wrote this poem on March 21, 2013 at 2:00 PM, my time.
I had mixed emotions that railed to this poem. The words came spontaneously and I wrote this in only a few hours. Some facts, though, were saved in my memory many years ago.
I received the inspiration from my guardian Saint, Hannibal Mary Di Francia.
According to Sir Albert Casuga (a notable Philippines-born Canadian writer, nominated for Mississauga Arts Council Literary Awards in 2007; a graduate of the royal and pontifical university of St. Thomas; UST Manila), “I see two levels of theme here. One: a love (passionate one) pleading your lover to come home and fulfill you. Two: The passion for the Sacred Heart that seems to unite with the presence of your pined for lover. It reminds me of St. Terese of Avila’s angst for the physical presence of the Crucified Christ in her.
Thank you for all those who have helped and supported me create this poem. Happy reading!
/rosalinda flores – martinez on huntprayerpoems