Part of a series combining spoken word with images. 'I Am Colour', uses colours as metaphors, as thoughts, as emotions, and at times a mere device to tread through memory, in order to paint the shades of different thoughts, emotions and journeys through words in poetry.
The visual compositions have been created out of paint, oil and soap liquid. Captured on Canon550D.
Captured by Asawari Jagushte
Poetry & SFX by Varsha Panikar
I am colour
The colours of intimacy
Much to explore
Gentleness and broken glass
Sweet touch
Raw sensation
We are a colour
That hasn't been discovered
Never seen by the universe
But we exist
And we shine!
The world is a colour
Without any shade.
The people, a canvas
Whose souls never fade
My mind is a brush
That paints where I go
That paints what I see
And paints what I know
Billions of people
All painting their thoughts
From the oldest of them
To the littlest of tots
Each person's soul
An original piece
That joins the collective
When their body shall cease
Their beauty overflowing
For all who will see
The beauty of you
And the beauty of me
Some people dream in colour,
Others in black and white,
My dreams leave clues in crystal hues,
Too prismatic for the eye.
Children find the colour wheel.
They always say just what they feel.
Colour the canvas from white to whatever.
The colours you use are yours forever.
The colours you favour
Are droplets in time: a minute, an hour, an endless design...
The painting is finished at our last breath.
Gone is everything you've ever said...
Coffee and muffins.
Smells that colour my imagination.
Vividly,
Tenderly.
The sweet taste of colours.
How can we taste
The colours of the rainbow?
One may say skittles,
Or rainbow icecream.
Every colour has a smell.
Each colour its own flavor.
What is your colour?
Your smell?
Green, mint, vanilla, white, eggnog,
Tan, cocoa, brown, strawberry, pink, rasberry
Magenta, mango, orange?
What are you made of?
Hot fudge sundae, rocky mountain, banana nut?
What makes you, well, you?
Trigger Warning: Mention of Suicide
Her favorite colour was blue
She was forever surrounded by its hue
In her eyes you can see the internal feud
But talking about it is was something she could never do
So blue took over her life
No one saw the weight of its strife
How it cut its way into her spirit like a knife
How its destructive force ran rife
She fell further down coz’ of her fears
Could fill an ocean with her tears
This went on for years
But she kept it all inside where no one could hear
Her favorite colour was blue
And it's quite tragic too
That no one ever saw the clues
Until her favorite knot became a noose
If I were able to look at myself with my own eyes, I would see nothing resembling what I let you see. Perhaps, I would see thoughts - raw, bleeding, black thoughts. Restless words, memories, ideas, colours. Colours that would bleed together as water colours on cheap paper. Colours upon colours, upon colours, upon colours.
R. I. P.
The moment the paper tears, the cut... too deep, the smile drops, almost before you hear the drip drop stop. Is my time running out?
I suppose that’s how time works.
What if our emotional scars were visible?
What if they could be seen as they formed?
What would happen?
Would people be more cautious?
Could it make a difference?
What if
Our moods could be seen as colors?
What if
People could see the damage they cause?
What if
Our thoughts could be seen as dark and light?
I wonder
What color would be seen most often?
Colour is always so much fun
White light split from the loving sun
The dark of night
Is where we run
When we hide
From what we may become.
It doesn't matter the spectrum
Or how the prism lies
The multitude of colours
You see them all at one time
It doesn't matter the connection
Or how it's been tied
It doesn't matter the infection
Or how it's stabalised
There's no matter in the prism
Just the refracting light
When you see all the colours
You see them at one time
All that I am adds to my colours,
My power to fully be.