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

Thu Oct 9 15:50:39 UTC 2014

    I also envisioned you looking into a vault but then just walking into it 
and lovingly picking up each memory and examining it ... like I sometimes do 
with the dolls in my doll collection.
Barbara

Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.--Robert Frost
-----Original Message----- 
From: myrnaspoetry via stylist
Sent: Thursday, October 09, 2014 8:42 AM
To: Jackie Williams ; Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] Poem My Vault of Unseen Colors- for MYRNA

To Jackie and Lynda
Thank you so very much for these kind words. You both have made my day and 
made me smile.
Myrna

> On Oct 8, 2014, at 11:40 AM, Jackie Williams via stylist 
> <stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
>
> Lynda,
> This is a spectacular vision of Myrna's poem I loved it from the start, 
> but even more now. As a poet, I thank you for taking the time and effort 
> to really feel this poem and share your translation of it with all of us.
>
> Jackie
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Lynda 
> Lambert via stylist
> Sent: Tuesday, October 07, 2014 5:19 PM
> To: Barbara HAMMEL; Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: Re: [stylist] Poem My Vault of Unseen Colors- for MYRNA
>
>
> 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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>
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