The Emotional Theories of Colour, Part 1.

The Colours of the various emotions of love.

Morning was

White out of white, a spring eggshell broken at the base of a simple dark lined tree. Bark as torn paper floating into an assumed wind.

Crippling sunlight caught in the teared eye of a viewer. Not sad but looking. Blurring the edges of the unseen into the bright prisms of a once more captured photograph.

Dripped diamond slipping from forming colours and dancing out into the substance underneath the marked lines of the tree. Liquid from solid falling.

Visions out from reflective bottle glass windows viewed into another distorted landscape far away and on another day.

Crystal white on white. Fogging the ice wind morning breath of these ruddy faces searching for the blue music of atmospheres.

An icon’s Virgin lapis mantle, unmixed, pure. arched away into vast memories caught in invented colours at the ending of sleep.

Tertiary green hills that roll towards lost blue remembered mountains and atmospheric perspectives that haze into distance and smaller receding details

A  contrast of airship clouds falling. Periwigged and growing vastly into a vaulted ceiling with sacred words. The nine orders of angels singing a perpetual Trisagion in various emotional colours.

 Pearled and silver winged.

Sunlight bright and purple flower shadows that shine in glistening golden webbed meadows

Complimentary growing yellow thoughts that filter along the garden pathways of an adoration towards him and his strange way of talking.

As he speaks glibly about pigment and emotional colour.

Rising through the gardens of an open heart towards a place where only she lived with her wishes.

Where emotions are put aside and made redundant

One angry red welt contrasting with all the blue bruised others in an orchard of ripening fruit

That are mixed with warm breezes fronting cool from the sea. As red comes fighting towards you and blue sinks secretly away into the dark recesses of a forgotten Lyonesse legend and place.

There is as time then, stuttering, continues as a laced profusion of primaries

And a suffering  punctuation of secondary words and melodies.

As though she lived her words through growing green and mumbling phrases.

And a brown earthy pallete nature

That always welcomed

The quick and the planted living

The love and the growing world.

Author's Note

As I am sure you know, Primary colours cannot be mixed from any other colours. Secondaries are two Primaries mixed together and Tertiary colours are a mixture of Primary and Secondary. Complimentary colours are the opposite of any particular colour. The Complimentary of a Primary is always a Secondary. Warm colours come towards the viewer, cool colours appear to recede.The colours of light differ from the colours of pigment. The theory of Emotional colour, why is the colour of mourning black in the West, white in the East? Why is the Virgin's cowl always Blue? What is the colour of Sex or Peace?
The Angels are singing a Trisagion , Holy, Holy, Holy. Only the Seraphim normally (normally?) do this.
Lyonesse was the secret land of legend that sank beneath the sea. I know I have used the word Periwig before.The photograph is mine and is called The Artists Garden.
Someone said I wrote long sentences. I do that unconciously. So here I have tried to do it conciously. I wonder if it works?

Reviews

[shythatway]

New day, blank canvas? The part with the yellow thoughts really put a smile to my face. Playful and sweet. :) And I think I understood the essence of this piece, even if I'm not that familiar with colour theory. There's hope, and I'm feeling a little purple right now..

[Ken Simm.]

Thank you so much for looking and liking my friend.

[Sami Khalil]

Man what to say. I admire all your writes for their depth of thoughts and wideness of introspections...You write great stuff...:)

[Ken Simm.]

You are too kind to me Sami. Thank you.

[Sami Khalil]

My pleasure...:)

[LJW]

Like a Salvadore Dali painting, but with brighter colors.

There are a few writers here who paint with their pens.

I am an artist myself, but cannot fuse the two.

Much respect for your talent.

[Ken Simm.]

Thank you my friend. From what I've seen of your work that is not true, you do.

[emmajoy]

' Visions out from reflective bottle glass windows viewed into another distorted landscape far away and on another day.' . what a sentence!

Firstly, am wondering if one has to pay for the first class tuition you so often add with/after your writing!!? Then, youv'e given such interesting details about colours (which i need know for landscaping); you continue with the ritual involvement of colour throughout the world, within religion; then there's the word 'Trisagion' which i had to check etc. and yet more. As to your use of long sentences for this extraordinary writing, they make one feel that you've forgetten the world and specators around you - have just spoken aloud, talking about your knowledge and perception of colour, emotion ~ observations that most don't see because they're merely looking - and, of course, love.

So many phrases, areas one could favour but .. this is special:

'Sunlight bright and purple flower shadows that shine in glistening golden webbed meadows ~ Complimentary growing yellow thoughts that filter along the garden pathways of an adoration towards him and his strange way of talking. ~ As he speaks glibly about pigment and emotional colour.'

[Ken Simm.]

All free Emma. Especially to you. Thank you so much for seeing into the details.

[Angi]

The colors flowed toward me as I read your words. I always like to see your Author's notes. I really like the background for your poems.

[Ken Simm.]

I'm glad they were of some use Angi. I am also very grateful to you for reading and liking.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i see the artist and photographer in here also...and the transitions of love so nicely done...love, loss of love, sadness, tears, perpetuating into anger, then resignation, despair and then finally ...new hope...

really well done, Ken.

[Ken Simm.]

Thank you so much Jacob. You always look further.

[Jack...]

Ken, your words are as vivid as the colors you present. Your poem is wonderful and your photo enchanting. Very nicely done.

[Ken Simm.]

Glad you like both of them Jack. I'm rather fond of that photo as well.

[h d e rushin]

Just as Leslie has said, the ending was of great artistic presentation. It had the
range and magnitude of W H Auden's "As I Walked Out one Evening" where his
enchanting theme was that love has no logical ending. And your ending says
a similar lament, only that love has a colorful ending ,yet perhaps not a logical one.
I like this effort from you sir.

but then, I like all your poems.
dana

[Ken Simm.]

I am honoured Dana. both that you like my work and you enjoy this one.

[Frieda P]

Holy, holy, the angels doth sing on your page eternally. Always learn something new when I read you Ken, I am blessed to have found you, your words are always enticing and draw me in like a bee to honey. Lapping it up...a sweet treat on your page.

[Ken Simm.]

Now you know what happens to me and the door when you start praising me too much Frieda. But thank you anyway.

[Frieda P]

Serves ya right for being so brilliant!

[Ken Simm.]

Now then, now then he says in his Manchester accent. Ey up now sithee appen. Well Ah'll go to our house. If ah con get throo dooor.