My lexicon is monochrome delineated in ink and tongued only with sound. No taste there nor jot of colour in sight I wish for permeable partitions to have each letter as a hue: colour coded by sight but with closed eyes, the very annunciation bursting like powdered paint behind the retina and my name, dotted like a pointillist portrait:
L a shock of electric blue, less thrilling in diminutive yet pretty as a starling's egg A an alabaster, pillared temple, cross-barred with marble but lower-cased, a falls like ripest apricot u in somewhat understated mode, inks itself in vintage sepia r resonates pink then orange, settling to a cushion of crushed crimson when a returns it fleshes out in yellow-orange succulence
And words are not mere alloys (else letter mix would meld as brown confetti). Each in its own discreteness, a sounding board for cup to overflow puce or Ombre shrimp-pinked violins before the music begins and a chameleon plays pitch perfect in tinted tonal mode. The poet knows best writing and reciting sounds till all the senses resonate
After I wrote this poem, I discovered Bernadette Sheridan, a synaesthete who has created coloured blocks for letters as she sees them – this is her version of my name. Try yours here
Poem that turns words into colours for Grace’s MTB prompt: Synaesthesia
PoetryPix 
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