In the beginning,
the world flickered in black-and-white
shadows behaving, light staying in its lane,
stories told in grayscale grammar.
Then came the inventors,
the engineers coaxing color
out of electrons and hope.
Phosphors bloomed~
tiny red, green, blue lanterns
glowing on the inside of a glass cathedral,
each dot a seed of awe
waiting to burst open.
And suddenly
the living room became a futuristic sunrise.
Technicolor spilled across the screen
like someone had finally remembered
to turn the world back on.
Children leaned forward,
their faces lit with wonderment,
and parents whispering
that nothing would ever look the same again~
and they were right.
Because color didn’t just arrive;
it unfurled like a miracle,
bright with promise~
and we huddle together
in that warm electric glow
watching the future
teaching itself how to shine.
You may read the accompanying memoir vignette at: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/technicolor_13892
‘A new king arose over Egypt
who did not know Joseph’
How could that possibly be
Had not Joseph gone down
in Egyptian history?
He had ruled over Pharaoh’s land
His prescient plan prevented famine
Surely Joseph’s name had been preserved
for remarkable deeds so deserved
Ah, but Joseph’s name had been changed
to ‘Tzafnas Pane’ach’ somehow rearranged
Perhaps the new king knew Joseph’s Egyptian name ~
for which he deserves neither praise nor blame
John Wayne would not entertain
self-doubt or indecision
jumped in again and again
with full blown tunnel vision
pure bravado does not stop
mortality's sure advance
nothing can give assurance
we will have that one last dance
not every situation
is cause to pose scream and shout
will be no acclimation
if we can't find our way out
lies turn into bolder lies
words sole purpose is deceit
no use trying to disguise
sometimes we'll take a backseat
unease growing faster now
leering faces seem stranger
no one going to ask how
words led to this much danger
not an outstanding question
of what might make it alright
flat out wrong situation
when lives are taken for spite
cannot simply turn and run
at this point of no return
too much cannot be undone
to dodge permanent downturn
this world's not all black and white
except in minds which are closed
we've all become wrapped too tight
in myths long ago composed
John Wayne would stick to his guns
in those technicolor dreams
but we're the actual ones
coming apart at the seams
Greyscale skies are met with black clouds raining upon us.
Brown fields hold no creatures.
There’s nothing here.
It's blank
empty
a world of cardboard figures in a shoebox
a single stiff breeze could tear us away
It's so cold.
I'm so cold.
Leaning against frigid concrete, I close my eyes.
Should I remain here?
Waiting for the warm kiss of a life gone by?
No.
I can make my own color now.
Swallowing my despair, I grab my own hand
and lead myself into a land of my own creation.
a land of color.
of light.
A land within shining lavender walls
picture-perfect corridors
a life cushioned in the magenta of tulips
and the blue of the sky.
It’s perfect.
And I can rule here forever.
Forever doesn’t last.
There was a manager, at a store near me curious in his heyday, he wore the colors of Joseph, and his multi colored tie. He didn’t have to scramble soul, to deliver my apple pies. He was there for the apple of my eye, moving like a blur to and fro. Couldn’t give him a pat on the back, so sent a letter by snail mail, to his CEO.
Long ago and way up north
Further than you can ever believe
Joey, a jaunty little fellow appeared
Folks wondered what was up his sleeve
Joey was unusual to say the least
Had lotsa neat things on his mind
No building forts or throwing snowballs
Was a kid of a different kind
Went straight to visit Santa one day
Brought him happy holiday joy
When Joey showed him his unique treasure
Santa hugged this unusual little boy
For what little Joey brought with him
Made Santa's heart dance with glee
The magnificent sight in front of Santa
Was a Technicolor Christmas Tree
They placed it in the centre of town
Folks sang and all joined hands
As they danced around this colourful tree
Bells rang out all o'er the land
There's a moral to this charming tale
Don't brush these wee kiddies aside
They're our future come hell or high water
So treat these young people with pride
Maître peintre of exulted hallelujahs
skywriting's vastly delusional vapors,
whitewashed of stained looking-glass
flourished in atmospherical cloudbursts,
beyond hallucinations' unearthly enlightenment
dreamt 'pon released chimerical technicolor
(Maître peintre - master painter)
Do you dream in technicolor?
Or is it as black and white
As right or wrong
Are you guilty as charged?
Will you let your rainbowed passions
Break from their prism
Do you need a pot of gold
To stir them in?
Do you only see green
The greed of the fertile land
Where you can plant your dreams
Your technicolor dreams
Not just brown nosing or pearly gate goals
Goals turn your nails blue
And your heart grey
A vibrant torrid love affair red, the lipstick smeared on your chest
Love in pink
Dream the rainbow
Bottles bobbing in melting ice
Little lights littering the house
Clicking chatters of party guests gushing
Colors creating cosmic creations of fantasy as
My mind drifts into a delightfully dreamy bliss
This is my first attempt at an alliteration. I may have done it completely wrong. Sorry it is so short as well.
Long ago and way up north
Further than you can ever believe
Joey, a jaunty little fellow appeared
Folks wondered what was up his sleeve
Joey was unusual to say the least
Had lotsa neat things on his mind
No building forts or throwing snowballs
Was a kid of a different kind
Went straight to visit Santa one day
Brought him happy holiday joy
When Joey showed him his unique treasure
Santa hugged this unusual little boy
For what little Joey brought with him
Made Santa's heart dance with glee
The magnificent sight in front of Santa
Was a Technicolor Christmas Tree
They placed it in the centre of town
Folks sang and all joined hands
As they danced around this colourful tree
Bells rang out all o'er the land
There's a moral to this charming tale
Don't brush these wee kiddies aside
They're our future come hell or high water
So treat these young people with pride
© Jack Ellison 2012
A wee bit early...
Daylight has cuffed the forsaken canyons
And as I am just rousing from a fair slumber
Saluted I am by a spectrum strangely colored smoke
Could it be possible that evolution advanced so hastily
The mist that is emitted from her orifice
Remind me of happy, platinum things
May her lips bear more phenomenons
All that was alluring adorned boulevards
‘Twas at the crossroads I became color blind
By pillars of dolor I am marred
All that was alluring adorned boulevards
Devoured within muteness forlorn I whine
Could such sequences be signs?
All that was alluring adorned boulevards
‘Twas at the crossroads I became color blind
Frozen within coloured novelties
Elegant fashion strikes tears of joy
Flawless solace veils mass poverty
Through virgin eyes we appear coy
Bewildered they bleed of apathy
Visually we appear strangers
Oblivious to such telepathy
A streak of electric danger
Revere the brilliant colours
Petite a theatrical delight
As unified in passion we muster
The enchanted rainbow knights
Your black and white hunger we yearn
To collect and radically refine
Eliminate all doubt and concern
A narrow cubicle undefined
It's raining...
In technicolor
And at the same time
The impossibilities
Of reality are reflected in your eyes...
But no matter what is not likely
Or possible,
I still love you
And I can only hope that one day
You'll love me back
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