I owe my eye for bursts of purple hue
In painted scenes to love's inductive force;
My native eye is green, remarking blue
And gold, neglecting purple save, of course,
That lining tapioca leaf, wild melon stalk
Or tiny rain-time blossom, all unreal
Against background green as spokes that walk
Slow counterpoint against the swift-spun wheel.
Your bright sheen on my fabric drew the flush
Of Tyre-and-Sidon yield for priest and king;
My heritage was grafted to Monet;
As if my celebration every day
With sweet palm wine pressed its boundaries to wring
From novelties of grapes your fluid hush.
was born in Calabar, Nigeria. He lived, among other places, in Egypt and England before settling near Boulder, Colorado where he lives with his wife and four children. Uche is a computer engineer and entrepreneur whose abiding passion is poetry. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in anthologies including The Beautiful Anthology and New Sun Rising: Stories for Japan, as well as in sundry journals including ELF: Eclectic Literary Forum, Corium Magazine, Soundzine, Lucid Rhythms, The Flea, IthacaLit, Unsplendid, String Poet, Mountain Gazette, The Raintown Review and Verse Wisconsin. He is poetry editor at The Nervous breakdown.
Art ~ Jean-Francois Millet