I have long had a problem with identifying purple as a colour, and here’s why.

No purple in the rainbow, this extraspectral hue
Lives anywhere along a line drawn out from red to blue.
Violet’s within the spectrum, its wavelength firmly fixed
And yet is part of purple, from blue and red it’s mixed;
But purple has no wavelength. From the chakra of the crown
Stem the purest thoughts as purple as an emperor’s Tyrian gown.

Coming in at crimson and out through indigo
The range of purple tincture runs through mauve to Tokyo,
By heliotrope and lilac smoke the purple seedless plant
(Blue fluorescence with magenta for a psychedelic slant).
Was retinal not chlorophyll the source of life at birth,
And shore and ocean purple on a young emergent earth?

The tint of future happening, of bishop and of king,
And eurosceptic UKIP, a complexion of mourning.
With Telletubby Tinky-Winky TV took us for a ride
Because he wore the purple, the blazon of gay pride;
The problem’s not to rhyme it; two words there are that do;
So, thanks to bonnie Scotland: curple’s one and hurple’s two!

My problem with the purple’s fitting concept to the name;
So much is tinged with purple yet the shades are not the same.
There is lavender and fuchsia, and I hope you will excuse
In these lines, all penned in panic, any hint of purple prose.
Our language here inadequate, with just one verb: to know.
Yet knowing not the colour, its significance I know!

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