I am an avid note-taker and for every class this semester, I am writing notes in a different color ink. Blue is for classes under my major, black is for general music classes, red is for science, and so on. Occasionally I find writing inspiration in nothing more than the color of the ink. So, here are some unconstrained thoughts, disguised as poems, based on colors…


What if I wrote in only red ink?

It is very possible you’d see red.

Fire engine red,

Red hot,

Hot flames,

Flame tongues,

Tongues talk.

Would you feel criticized by every word?

Or maybe you would read all my words as gospel.

If I drew a picture of the weather,

Would the rain drops look like blood?

If I drew a green light,

Would you stop?

If I drew blackberries,

Would you find them



I’m jealous of any eyes

That can connect with yours.

I surround myself with green.

Green apple candy,

Green logo on my coffee cup,

So sweet.

I drown in green.

I snap out of this green haze,

Wishing to live

A dream in green.


Black is so often thought of

As destructive.

Little do people know (or notice)

That black is the color of origin.

Black lines on my eyelids

Make me feel pretty

Black pants on my legs

Make me feel angsty

Black shoes on my feet

Make me feel at home.

Black and white photos

Trigger that section of my brain

Lighting up with nostalgia.

Black keys mean different things

At different times.

36 on a piano

To make music.

A variety on the computer

To make words

Like the ones I am typ…


Wednesday blues.

They are like Monday blues,

But more despairing,

More worn out.

Though that is not all

Blue represents.

Blue is for ocean waves,

Cloudless days,

And power cords

Attached to my turntable

Playing Nina,

Sings the blues.

Blues so good

You almost forget they’re blue.