During my Creative Writing Poetry class we had to look up poets and read some of their poems and make a presentation on them. I finally decided to look up a poet that my teacher has been recommended that I look up. That being May Swenson. She’s a really good poet, but my reason for mentioning this is because one of the poems I found (after I took out the books of poetry the library had to offer) I found a poem that spoke to me. A lot of them did, but this one spoke to me on a certain level, yu’ll see what I mean.
The Blindman
The blindman placed
a tulip on his tongue for purple’s taste.
Cheek to grass, his green
Was rough excitement’s sheen
of little whips.
In water to his lips
he named the sea blue and white,
the basin of his tears and fallen beads of sight.
He said: This scarf is red;
I feel the vectors to its thread
that dance down from the sun. I know
the seven fragrances of the rainbow.
I have caressed
the orange hair of flames. Pressed
to my ear,
a pomegranate lets me hear
crimson’s flute.
Trumpets tell me yellow. Only ebony is mute.
See what I mean? One time when I was writing something some said I needed more detail in my writing and I asked them how I would do that being visually impaired and they told me that I could just use my other senses as well. I find it interesting to use colour a sounds and feelings instead of what you see.