[stylist] Poem My Vault of Unseen Colors- for MYRNA

Lynda Lambert llambert at zoominternet.net
Wed Oct 8 00:18:57 UTC 2014 

I'll be lazy and tag onto this, Myrna. Here's to you!

Hi Myrna,
I wanted to write about this poem but needed lots of time to read it through 
many times and dwell on it. I am a very slow reader when it comes to poetry. 
I have to read a poem countless times before I can begin to put it together. 
That is, if there is something there that is necessary to spend time 
thinking about for so long. This certainly is one of those poems – I have 
carried it in my mind since the  first reading of it. Tonight, it is dark 
and raining, and I am quite tired. It was the perfect time to reflect and 
write a few words on the poem. Here is what I thought about as I read it 
again this evening. Because I hold poetry in such a high place, I normally 
have to think about it a lot -
Vault of Unseen Colors

As the poem opens, I feel like I am seated in a dark theater and watching as 
the curtain begins to rise so slowly. It is  a feeling that  I am standing 
there with you as you open  the curtain and on the stage, is a  vault. Just 
a vault. Nothing more. It stands in the center of the bare stage. We are 
quiet, and we wait to see what comes next.
The word  "vault"  is so significant, I think, to where you are going in 
this piece.
To my mind, a  “vault”  is  a much  stronger  word than if you had  put your 
colors in a box or a trunk.  You gave me a new notion of keeping things safe 
and a place for holding  prized things. A vault reminds me of something that 
is kept safely locked up, as  a wall of metal safe deposit boxes in  a 
ank  - or the larger vault where the bank would keep money, and other costly 
items. One has to have a key and legal  access to enter into it.  I think it 
gives the idea of maximum security for treasures. But it is always “entered 
into” when one goes to a vault - I thought o f this poem a couple days ago, 
as I entered into the vault to get my safe deposit box out to check on some 
contents - I envisioned your "vault" in the poem as I stood there waiting 
for the person to unlock the box and leave me alone with it.
The  idea of the colors being “unseen” strikes me, too. It makes me muse; 
Would  a color  be a visable, physical color if it was not visually seen? 
Because I have a very long visual memory of colors, I cannot really think in 
any other way. I have no idea what a “color“ signifies to one who has never 
seen a color. Just to mention a color makes me feel it, smell it, hold it, 
embrace it. And, I wonder, is it this way for a person who have not had the 
experiences with color, and how does it differ?

The treasures here, put in the vault, have been garnered over a period of 
time – like a “collector” who brings precious coins, or gems, or money to 
their personal bank vault – to keep it all safe from theft or loss.  I get 
the idea that the persona once knew colors intimately, but now does not, 
since the colors are called “unseen.”  But, then, all colors are unseen 
because they exist in the imagination of us all. The treasures are elements 
of imagination – the mysteries we can all gather and store no matter what.
When you begin to name colors, I can feel them as I read. The “grace of 
 blue” brings to my mind a holiness, a sacred object –  peacefulness of 
mysteries.
And, the “red” you describe is  so  powerful. It  propels   the motions  and 
movements of “green.” Renewal of spring; renewal of Nature or of the Earth. 
The red of fire and  flames and the phoenix of life that emerges from it.
Like a brilliant red bud that I can reach for and in the process fall into 
the foliage that surrounds it.

I will end here. I love it!  Lynda


-----Original Message----- 
From: Barbara HAMMEL via stylist
Sent: Sunday, October 05, 2014 12:05 AM
To: Jackie Williams ; Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] Poem My Vault of Unseen Colors

I refrained from commenting earlier because the first time Iread it I 
thought not much of this offering but now that I've read it again I DO 
realize the wonder of it. Morna, I've saved 5 of your poems to add to my 
"other writers" poetry. I do very much enjoy your poems -- which shows that 
I'm broadening my horizons since you write free verse. :) You, Lynda and 
Jackie write wonderfully.
(LOL! My only disappointment about this poem is that purple, pink and orange 
were missing by name.)
Barbara

Sent from my iPhone

> On Oct 4, 2014, at 18:51, Jackie Williams via stylist <stylist at nfbnet.org> 
> wrote:
>
> Myrna,
> I regret that it has taken me this long to comment on your superb poem. It
> is almost overwhelming with its personification of colors, and the
> realization that these are remembered, and kept in a vault as treasures.
> It makes me want to ask you a million questions.
> I am one of the fortunate ones for whom the vault has not yet closed. But
> almost week by  week, those colors are dimming without recognition of the
> hues, and shades. I have an aide who helped me put matching jewelry into
> plastic bags on which I use a "pen-friend" which tells me the color, and
> whether it is made by someone I know, and the date. I have always tried to
> be perfectly coordinated with everything on me, so it is a bitter pill.
> You, obviously, at some point had full vision to remember the colors in 
> such
> a personal way related to the entire outdoors and emotions as well.
> I would like to know your background in writing poetry. Did you take
> classes, go to workshops, get a degree?
> And how would you feel about me copying this poem and taking it to my 
> poetry
> class to share with my fellow poets in my critique group. Our first 
> meeting
> this fall is this coming Tuesday. While they have some insight into the
> blind because of me, but not nearly enough to recognize how creative the
> blind can be.
> I hope you are consistently getting better and closer to having your
> computer.
>
> With admiration,
> Jackie
>
>
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of 
> myrnaspoetry
> via stylist
> Sent: Monday, September 29, 2014 5:06 AM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: [stylist] Poem My Vault of Unseen Colors
>
> Last night at our meeting we talked about colors and I wanted to share 
> this
> poem I'd written some time ago. Hope it is enjoyed. I wish I could send it
> as attachment but I do not have access to my computer yet.
> Myrna
>
> Vault of Unseen Colors
>
> I open the door to my vault
> of unseen colors using imagination's
> key and I find myself in awe
> and wonderment at the many treasures
> I have gathered over the years,
> the mysticism and the stark reality,
> the grace of blue, its penchant for peace,
> and the voracious appetite of red with its
> livid caricature in times of anger.
> I stumble across the many shades of green,
> breathing in its promise of renewal.
> I touch the playfulness of yellow and the glory of cerise, the
> invitation of black and white,
> and I smile at the seemingly
> dull surprises of brown and gray,
> and with faith renewed I sort through
> the depths of every memory, the images
> and echoes, the ocean's changing hues and seasonal
> paintings upon a mountain, the building
> of a night sky and a waking dawn,
> the shadows of rainbows
> and the portraits drawn by racing clouds.
>
> My memory vault is overflowing and yet
> I cannot, nor will not, divide those special
> moments into slots of importance for each
> owns a significant place within the heart and
> my vault would not be the same
> without them, whether they are flawed
> or remembered
> in pristine perfection.
>
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