Monday, March 14, 2011

Blooming Conflagration of the Senses

Mauve the hills on fire with heather—

You can almost hear the smell.

4 comments:

  1. Delightful! Vassilis, your poem reminds me of a particular tree many autumns ago whose color was so brilliant it stopped me in my tracks & I suddenly started hearing Vivaldi in my head. And of the certain inexplicable scentsation [sic] that announces that it will soon snow, despite the weatherman's saying it won't. Colors that sing, not-yet-snow that you can sense/smell, audible sense that blooms. Thank you for bringing the first breath, sight and sound of spring onto my snow-piled porch today!!

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  2. Thanks, Annie--

    I'm happy this little one took you back to such a colorful time.

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  3. yes. the frozen moment of synesthesia.

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  4. Yep--the Greeks had (and still have) a word for it! Thanks, Gerry.

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