Purple as tulips in May, mauve into lush velvet, purple as the stain blackberries leave on the lips, on the hands, the purple of ripe grapes sunlit and warm as flesh.
Every day I will give you a color, like a new flower in a bud vase on your desk. Every day I will paint you, as women color each other with henna on hands and on feet.
Red as henna, as cinnamon, as coals after the fire is banked, the cardinal in the feeder, the roses tumbling on the arbor their weight bending the wood the red of the syrup I make from petals.
Orange as the perfumed fruit hanging their globes on the glossy tree, orange as pumpkins in the field, orange as butterflyweed and the monarchs who come to eat it, orange as my cat running lithe through the high grass.
Yellow as a goat’s wise and wicked eyes, yellow as a hill of daffodils, yellow as dandelions by the highway, yellow as butter and egg yolks, yellow as a school bus stopping you, yellow as a slicker in a downpour.
Here is my bouquet, here is a sing song of all the things you make me think of, here is oblique praise for the height and depth of you and the width too. Here is my box of new crayons at your feet.
Green as mint jelly, green as a frog on a lily pad twanging, the green of cos lettuce upright about to bolt into opulent towers, green as Grand Chartreuse in a clear glass, green as wine bottles.
Blue as cornflowers, delphiniums, bachelors’ buttons. Blue as Roquefort, blue as Saga. Blue as still water. Blue as the eyes of a Siamese cat. Blue as shadows on new snow, as a spring azure sipping from a puddle on the blacktop.
Cobalt as the midnight sky when day has gone without a trace and we lie in each other’s arms eyes shut and fingers open and all the colors of the world pass through our bodies like strings of fire.
If only life was a colouring book by John Edward Smallshaw
..and then we could colour in, madly fall fuller in and because colouring can be erased we can do it for days and days and if the years pass me by I'll just colour me one more blue sky.
Dot to dot's duller we only need colour and crayon to make a day go on I'll vote for that.
life is a colouring book People are the crayons Experiences are the various Shades of those crayons Live life to the fullest Do it with your friends and family Fill in that colouring book And don't be afraid To go outside of the lines
I believe that my purpose is to colour you right; be artistic on you all night. Be bright under the dimmed light. Hold and squeeze your crayons tight. Just the two of us; no one else in sight; because my purpose is to colour you right.
Me on your sketch board. You filling me in with your crayons when you're bored, and feeling me up like a hoard. Leaving your wax on me like writings on a chalkboard. I'll make sure that you're not scorned; because my purpose is to colour you even if you're flawed.
Although I might not know where to start the assignment, I'll colour you with much excitement. Colouring on you is a perfect adornment, and together we colour a perfect monument. I chose you carefully as my colour assortment, because my purpose is to colour you as an act of an atonement.
In you, I find so many colours in store. In you, I find light for sure. I remember us colouring until the early morning at four. We coloured like we'd never coloured before. We entagled inlove like a fight of foes. Because my purpose is to colour you, of course.
stubbornlyrefusing to change one's opinion or chosen course of action, despite attempts to persuade one to do so.
📘 Definitions
Fixed and unyielding in course or purpose
Tenaciously unwilling or marked by tenacious unwillingness to yield.
Refusing to change your opinions, way of behaving
✍️ Example Sentence:
“She remained obstinate in her decision, refusing to reconsider despite new evidence.”
🌱 Why We Love This Word:
Obstinate is a powerful word that highlights the fine line between determination and inflexibility. Understanding it helps us reflect on our own behaviour and recognise when persistence becomes an obstacle rather than a strength.
💬 Members’ Thoughts:
What does obstinate mean to you?
Can obstinacy ever be a positive trait?
When have you seen determination turn into stubbornness?
Share your reflections in the comments below and join the discussion.
🏆 Vote for Your Favourite Word!
Members are invited to share their favourite words throughout the day. At the end of the session, the community will vote for the most thought-provoking word shared.
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Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; There are four seasons in the mind of man: He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear Takes in all beauty with an easy span: He has his Summer, when luxuriously Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves To ruminate, and by such dreaming high Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings He furleth close; contented so to look On mists in idleness—to let fair things Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook. He has his Winter too of pale misfeature, Or else he would forego his mortal nature.
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