blog, chromophobia, color, colour, understanding, words, writer, writing

Give me a word, any word and I will show you the root of that word is Greek ~ Chromophobia

(Irrational fear or conditioned response to colour)

The Greek Cypriot in me occasionally awakens with words I have never heard of before; even though their existence has manifestations in many forms. It can take just one Grecian word to open a kaleidoscope of topics for discussion, debate and provocative thinking. The word Chromophobia was introduced to me by a dear friend who has made a career out of creating beautiful colours whilst changing perceptions in the process.

Maybe, you have an irrational fear of the colour green? Unable to eat your peas or any vegetable with a greenish hue for fear they will choke you. Perhaps red is the colour you avoid? I mean red is dangerous, isn’t it? It commands you to stop and forbids you to go there; wherever there may be. There are symptoms of Chromophobia and hate is one of them. Hate through fear, hate because Chromophobes see nothing but dark, foreign bodies and not the full spectrum.

Generally, we all see things in black and white, right and wrong. These views may be part of our genetic make-up, ideas without foundation from our teachers or peers; misguided without a full understanding of the global pallet and its variety of colours. If we choose not to live in colour the canvas will always be blank. If we choose to explore and understand, we lose the fear imbedded in our psyche long before we first opened our eyes to see complexions.

© Michelle Sotiriou 2015


She Be a Poet – Moonstruck

Something came over me, my emotions high

It struck me all of a sudden, super moon in the sky.

Blinded at first by foliage, green leaves and robust bark

My struggle to see super moon in the dark.

Fixed and undeterred, my feet unable to move

Toes stuck like needles in a revolving groove.

Transfixed my eyes are swaying, through clouds and pesky branches

I decide my fate is out there so I stand and take my chances.

Super moon had planned for me, a night spent by the window

Lovely and beguiling, I can hear the wind blow.

The clearing of the clouds made way, the brightest opal

Super moon appeared to me, I begin to fall.

I feel a pang a tingling in my mind, something’s about to change,

Moonstruck the voice arrives to me, through the wind, it calls my name.

© Michelle Sotiriou 2014