Red, Blue, Green, Yellow

Why do two colours, put one next to the other, sing? Can one really explain this? No. Just as one can never learn how to paint.

Pablo Picasso

Red, Blue, Green, Yellow


Paintings are a dream, more than just colours:
red, blue, green, yellow.
Books are an experience, more than paper and ink.
Some folk can taste the shapes of the  letters,
touch the sounds of the storyteller’s voice,
and can even smell the words on the page.
Music is a language, more than the food of love,
more than sound, we feel it somewhere down deep.
Someone said, play the notes and listen hard;
D flat is deep plum, Middle C sapphire blue.
Some folk play inner chords in the key of
silence, dreaming their own private rainbows,
whose palette’s intensity is quiet,
always muted, not florid, lurid or loud.
Some spend their whole lives under the water,
blindfold, deaf and dumb.
Some see coloured auras others cannot see,
hear voices from another place and time,
but  keep all their inner secrets silent.
Some babies born from the Light, in colours
soft, quiet and under-stated, soon blossom
into brilliance, in tune with memories
of Spirit’s dazzling primary colours:
red, blue, green and yellow.



Cait O’Connor