what is the colour of black?

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black is the sound of a phone call
through hazy lines, that keeps on
ringing — delayed response,
stopping short of despair — its greys
subdued, in the harsh daylight.

black is the smell of fresh blood, lip-
shaded hurt that keeps on aching,
rising — tendrils of lust reaching out
for a dark, dark touch — i’ve wondered
if i can rise to the height of burning.

black is the nail-paint — matte, you
said — it makes my fingers look long-
err — these short sardonic evenings
to gather at the shore, monochrome
boats returning to a long night’s door.

black is the imprint of a stranger —
shadows and sighs, desire held aloft,
succumbing to these charms — my
hurt getting wider, my lies deeper, as
hopes trickle down in half-streams.

black is the taste of your smile — sly,
shy, standards apart — white masks
falling from our eyes, to see the shape
of nothingness, its skin we wear unto
our hearts, like a hole stretched apart.

i see black remorse — no spectrum
to measure its length and width —
a world missing, where i could be singing
to the clouds, and they would pour down
all the colours, remembered and lost.

.
© Anmol Arora

Image source (Abstract Painting by Ad Reinhardt; © 2018 Estate of Ad Reinhardt/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York)

Written for my prompt at dVerse on Shades of Black. Don’t forget to check it out.

19 thoughts on “what is the colour of black?

  1. Rob Kistner says:

    Beautiful cascading metaphors Anmol, each whole, each strong, each moving — powerful write! The 6th especially stands apart for me.

    Like

  2. Glenn A. Buttkus says:

    In the color spectrum, black is not the absence of color, it is a combination of them all. White is the absence of colour. I liked the line /monochrome boats returning to a long night’s door/.

    Like

  3. This is a darkly tinged question and answer poem, Anmol. I love the imagery of ‘…lip-
    shaded hurt that keeps on aching,
    rising — tendrils of lust reaching out
    for a dark, dark touch’
    and the short sardonic evenings that
    ‘gather at the shore, monochrome
    boats returning to a long night’s door.’
    I find ‘black is the imprint of a stranger’ quite threatening; it reverberates in the remorse of the final stanza.

    Like

  4. A defining poem. I especially liked these words:
    “my hurt getting wider, my lies deeper, as
    hopes trickle down in half-streams.” These words are so visceral…they evoke pain in the reader. There is a depth in these words.

    Like

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