SIFAR...nothingness

⦅ Rainbow ⦆

This is the entry for the Poetry Contest for November 2018 - November is Colour, where we had to write a poem in the acrostic style (no genre )

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Energy of red mixed with calm of blue,
Violet is the name of the resultant hue;
Extravagance it lends, pride imbue,
Royal and grandeur, it does endue;
Yet a simple flower, with petals few,
February's birth flower, the violet true;
Oh! It is the crown chakra, who knew?
Robes of angels; are of this colour too.

Mystery at heart, that's its trademark
Indigo is a blue of shade quite dark
Silent a colour, yet strong and stark ;
Alluring are the tales its life would spark;
Blue or Violet, an argument you could hark,
Asimov said, 'It's just blue', a dismissive remark;
Shrub perennial, their leaves or bark;
Eternal a dye yield, which does leave its mark.

Forever blue, of the sky and the sea,
Open spaces and freedom to just be;
Representing trust, wisdom and loyalty,
Cool and calm, oozing tranquillity;
Or it could be cold, aloof and icy,
Life is ending and death you see;
Oh, yet, it is colour quite pretty,
Universally loved, you have to agree.

Resplendent a hue, light or dark or in-between,
Earth's own colour, for in emerald it does preen;
Verdant fields and mossy plains, it's seen,
Everything in nature is alive in green;
Rebirth and revitalisation, it does mean,
Yet, in envy, towards this shade you lean;
Colour of nature and countryside serene,
Oh! Of the Rainbow, it could be the Queen.

Light and laughter, would be this shade,
Or you would be called it, when afraid;
Uplifting and happy, it would never be staid,
Remember the daffodils, breezily they swayed?
If only to sunshine and joy, it had stayed,
Sparkle and shine was all it displayed;
A contradiction, yet, it must be made;
Nature when dying, to yellow does fade.

A colour of warmth, fire and flame,
The only fruit with a colour as its name;
Thousands of hues, no two the same,
Rising and setting sun, it does frame;
It was the gold of nature, when autumn came,
But also the earth, when the forest is aflame;
Understated and underrated, it is a shame,
That orange never gained much acclaim.

End of the rainbow, red is what we find,
Of various hues it is and none of a kind;
Found in fiery passion and anger blind,
And in warm love that hearts does bind;
For ages, it is a colour reviled and maligned,
Or worshipped and in temples enshrined;
Roses and blood, by this colour defined,
Might it be that this colour, is always on our mind.

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And done, as usual in the last minute. Further, I think I have complicated the whole thing but then the challenge was refreshing after hectic weeks of dealing with numbers.

Word count - WP reads at a higher count for it counts 20 words for each of the media; as per MS Word, the total word count for only the poem is 413.