Image-ine: colour seduction

come a little closer, i want to seduce you.

dip your bare hands into the paint barrels i have placed at your feet, at your sides, up ahead. lift your fingers to the earth blue sky and watch the oily liquid squirm, gravity its game.

pull on that overall, flick the hairs of your brand new brush, tuck it into your pocket and follow me.

the streets are narrow, the hearts are wide.

you might be tempted to ride your bike, but dismount for the walk is faster done.

be good now, this town is made from lace. its ladies’ hands are nimble, fine edged and oh so lovely. they loop and dip, stitch and cross like a tight rope walker across a lake.

the shop fronts are delicate and tender, fronted with this white, beige and cream sieve like yarn.

the simplicty of this place is what lures you, holds your breath and leaves you wanting: no cars, no fuel, no options, just the corner cafe, the farmacia, the trattoria, your dinghy and the blue blue ocean all around.

spin, spin like a bottle top. colour will bombard your eyes, sway your world and leave you hanging, spinning, wanting more.

he will offer you a cigar, take it with a nod of the head: pull your chair closer. take in the village gossip as you ppppppp, pppffft out circles of smoke, clouding the evening air, thick and laden with humid coolness.

a village woman and her friends fill the air with moans and groans hidden in the curtained doorways. mutter your broken italian, a heart welcome will be offered, perhaps a toothless grin and most certainly a fly swatter too.

smell the crushed garlic permeating from every pore, inhale it deeply. the humidity intensifies it’s essence. balsamic black swirling in golden oil: dip your bread, feel the crumbs scatter across your skin. crush the salt between your teeth.

overalls splattered, energy spent, eyes wide from colour bursting forth like ripened fruit falling, lay your weary head down to sleep. a full moon across a pinpricked sky stares down at you as your boat bobs, bobs, bobs, lulling you to sleep.

this is burano. this is island life.

Images and post by Claire Burge.

Try your brush?

Write a poem of your own, based on a time when colour has burst into your life and surprised you, or with the concept of “colour symbolising hope”. tell us what you hope for and how as an artist you can create this in your life. post on your blog and link to us (we love that), or just drop your poems here in the comment box.


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  1. says

    Thank you Ma’am. Interestingly though, my favourite part of this town was actually seeing the village come alive that night when all the boats had departed back to the main island of venice. There are very few hotels and I did not see one bed and breakfast. We moored there for the evening and went meandering around the streets at 10:30pm. Everybody was out, the kids were playing, the women jabbering, the men smoking. It made me yearn for a small life again… but then I remembered my year of country living in a rural setting and quickly changed my mind : )

    • says

      such a good way to put it maureen…

      there were many smiles all round for sure. i walked around a corner, trying to find my way to the canal and three little boys were playing marbles together.

      i love that old fashioned fun still exists in the world!

  2. says

    Miss Claire,

    A person could
    a spoon
    and smile. Smaller
    utensils work
    crayon crazies
    lasts ’til
    noon. Especially
    after that fat
    ole cow
    has jumped
    the moon
    with you-know

  3. says

    I wrote this one back in the spring:


    Suddenly, I see it
    has been slowly growing in
    the periphery of my sight, budding
    across my eyeballs, spurting
    up in blades in my iris, shimmering
    along my cornea, and I
    staring all the while, never noticed
    until now
    that the world is green again.

    • says

      Kimberlee, you mention those cloudy grey days: I sometimes drift through my photos on rainy days to remind me that somewhere in the world, the sun is shining and that someone is feeling happy because of it.

  4. says

    Reminds me some of La Boca’s Caminito, the Tango district in Buenos Aires.

    Well, except for the canals, of course. :)

    But the colors, the sounds, the rest.

    Beautiful, Claire. Thanks for the trip.

    • says


      you do make my feet itche even more than they already do… do you have any idea how badly i want to go to this part of cuba?

      when did you travel there?

      • Marie Conklin says

        Claire, when I first saw the seduction of color, in your sharing of Italy, I was reminded of my own new discovery of San Miguel de Allende and Guanajuato Mexico. I was smitten by the life of color (and at 70, that is a good thing.) So much, that I returned
        home with my husband, to Spokane WA, sold our stuff (it’s only stuff, I have learned)and house, to return to the pull of magical hues, because truly, it is layered with richness of life to be enjoyed. More eye candy with depth of many stories (history).

  5. says

    I kept asking myself “is this all real? is it photo shop magic? who but a child who gets in trouble for coloring outside the lines would dare paint a whole town this way?” and when I wasn’t asking myself this question I was breathing in and out “I want to go there… even if it’s not real”. But it is real, isn’t it? I’m not sure why but it leaves me with a lump in my throat. What a beautiful amazing piece you have shared here – thank you so much.

  6. Marie Conklin says

    Eye candy! I take it in, glorious, scrumptious, and sweetness ofyet another kind, touching on memories, flavors hidden in the past, cobalt prom dresses, blue lagoons, crimson cap and gown, yellow easter eggs, red choir robes strawberry and pistachio ice cream , and surely beyond the rainbows of our mind. Ahhhhh!

  7. says

    This has made me want to paint my walks, my window frames, my furniture, EVERYTHING, with these wonderful colors. Seriously. What a beautiful place to visit and be.

    My favorite part – the way the colors from the buildings bleed into the canals. You can’t keep color like that on the side of building. It goes with you.

    Claire – so glad I found you here today.

    • L. L. Barkat says

      Do it, Charity. I want to see it after you do :)

      You won’t be able to keep color like that on the walls and furniture. It will go with you…

    • says

      and charity your ability to look beyond is what captured me… yes it did bleed into the canals.

      the town’s voices also rippled over the water in the evenings which made the laughter ring out just that split second longer.

    • says


      this poem stopped me and sent a shiver through me.

      it is multifaceted and one dimensional all at once. sad and hopeful. happy and angry.

      it will come again to me, especially the words so starkly juxtapositioned in the piece.


  8. says

    Oh! The mad, delicious colours!
    Circling like technicolor crows
    threatening to pluck out my eyes –
    just punishment
    for the indulgence,
    the sheer delight
    of taking in

    (well, this is the first thing to come to me at this early hour. Love love love the colors in the photos. I want to go there)

  9. says

    Hi there, i read your blog occasionally and i own a similar one and i was just curious if
    you get a lot of spam comments? If so how do you prevent it,
    any plugin or anything you can suggest? I get so much lately it’s driving me insane so any support is very much appreciated.


  1. […] Tweetspeak Poetry, Clair Burge shared some of her delicious photos in her post Image-ine: color seduction. The colors she captured make me want to re-paint each and every wall in my house. And all the […]

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