[stylist] Touching ARainbow

[Chris Kuell]

Barbara,

I like your poem. Thanks for sharing.

chris

----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Barbara Hammel" <poetlori8 at msn.com>
To: <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Saturday, April 06, 2013 8:05 PM
Subject: [stylist] Touching ARainbow


No essay was forthcoming so it did end up a poem.
Barbara

  TOUCHING A RAINBOW

  By Barbara Hammel



Some people paint the rainbow,

Whether stylized or true,

Yet others paint it Roy G Biv

Or red and yellow and blue.



But whether it is in the sky

Or in a frame beneath some glass,

Or crayoned so one can feel the wax,

Or even in the dew on grass,



There is no rainbow I can see.

I must accept the words you say.

"Please make me one so I can know,"

They thought but never found a way.



Construction paper strips should do,

(They all felt just the same.)

What is a color any way?

To me it's just a name.



I've thought of this for years, but I

Am not the crafty sort,

I have the great ideas

But in the doing I fall short.



So get inside my head with me

And on a quest we'll go,

But leave your eyes behind today,

We're going to touch the rainbow.



The tin foil sky is smooth and cool,

And cotton ball clouds can be found.

Some are stretched and lay out thin

Others are left fluffy and round.



Our rainbow's made from fabrics

(You may have chose yours differently,)

But let's explore the textures

I have chosen mine to be.



The red streak is of corduroy,

(Don't ask why. I do not know.)

The orange one is made of silk,

That cotton is the yellow.



Green's a stripe of seersucker,

Satin represents the blue,

Indigo is of soft velour,

The fleece is the violet hue.



C s c s s v f has

Not the ring of Roy G Biv

But paper strips or wax or glue

No hint to color do they give.



Now, as you slip back to your world,

Leaving me alone inside my head,

That elusive rainbow's not so much

A mystery word, just something said.



And now my little poem is through.

I have broadened your horizons? No?

Colors have been at your fingertips with

The gift of touching a rainbow.





Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance. -- Carl Sandburg