Color Cannot Survive Poem by Sandra Fowler

A great coulourful tapestry interwoven with all the intangibles. Take care

You are artistic in so many ways. Also, your stanzas flow in the way no others I've read. GREAT READ!

a picture well written. a great poem.

marvelous indeed this expressive language.

Two minor qualms concerning this otherwise glorious imagistic piece were the phrases 'corners of my mind' and 'into my consciousness'. The opening stanza is practically flawless as many mental pictures popped into my melon. The second stanza, somewhat obscure in meaning, left me feeling a bit uneasy (perhaps your intention for the reader to thus be affected?) , but that decisive final line was the redemption factor.

Rainbows dissappear, too.I must wait till the next one.

Fingers brush snow into my consciousness. sandraji, the above line sends chill one my spinal code.........

I found the imagery fragile and awesome at the same time. The intimacy of the tactile sense came through very strongly for me - fingers brush snow into my consciousness as did the gentle irony of the closing line. A beautiful and complex poem!

the setting colors of memories too have a beauty of their own but they won't survive long merging into the darkening shadows that fall on the mind's window blinds...you create a sad but sweet poetic atmosphere with your soft imageries, Sandra...well wrtten piece...10

For 27 years I lived with a man who always kept the curtains drawn. I fancied he must have been a mole in a previous life. In summer, his excuse was to keep the heat out. In winter, to keep the heat in. For some reason this poem reminds me of this man and his fear of life and the warmth and loyalty of his friendship and the brilliance of his mind. I was happy to 'suffer shadows gladly for (his) sake.' Your melancholy is always written with such warmth Sandra. This one touched me especially. love, Allie xxxx