A world of change
Round and round
My heart of envy and gold,
The birth of a new stone
Hazel room, vibrant lilac sky,
Deep orange haze in a warm place
Arms of sapphire and cornflower blue
Fuchsia beauty drip
All colors drift
The day we met
Visions of dark slate-gray
Lighting the new age gem
Turning and creating different stars
Magic mint skies
White antique petals follow the wind
Opal dreams, clouds embedded with impurity
My heartbeat produces flashing colors
The palest amethyst bluebonnet forever fields
Flawless teal drop streams
Diamond shaped love
Ruby red promises to keep
Falling into the deep
Every color spins new
The day I fell in love with you
Peridot lime green shade
A love as old and gray
Olive brownish sun
Our future clear as aquamarine
Everyday you turn fresh new seasons in me
Changing the sequence in my colors and event
Reflected by the mirrors of you
a skater stops, a skier turns
the flapping peaceful wings of doves
the crashing of a wave to shore
stars that glow from up above
a snowstorm or a bright refrain
the brilliant smile when you saw "Her"
the ice that melts in springtime rain
a ghost, the bride's new wedding gown
the Christmas tales of Grampa's lore
a swan, an egret, Santa's fur
snowmen, daisies, summer clouds
the light that shines from heaven's door
when, at last, the angels sing
Nov. 24, 2013
COLORS for MOTHER,
Looking towards the blue sky
Every color camouflaged around the cloud
Tears of sadness began to dry
Watching all the colors display out loud
The dark needing to fade
The grey in my life finally made sense
Colors overlapping, forming a beautiful cascade
Shoulders of tense
I imagined your smile against the yellow sun
Giving light to all the matter of the things I've done
A warmness in my red heart-- together in the long run
Creating a new purple and pink sensation-- as one
My new rainbow doesn't come in black and white
Giving reason to follow the joy of light
A gift of colors remind me everything will be all right
A guide blazing throughout the night
Lavender plant blooming for the world to see
A garden of every color just for me
Everyday I see the sunrise, rising up in colors of glee
My Rainbow will appear everyday without rain, no matter how deep the sea
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet, the perfect skin tan
My sweet angel your the largest spectrum where ever rainbows span
I wrote this poem for my mom.
Across the white sand waters
Meld of teal and turquoise hue,
In sunlight, emerald facets,
In shadow, grays of blue,
First breaking light of heaven,
Tinted sky in tones of shell,
Dancing lights, pearl pink and saffron,
Fleck the bosom of the swell.
On waves of crisper coral
The majestic sun ship sails,
Bright bride aflame in glory
Blushed beneath her misty veils.
Such beauty blinds my vision;
My gaze is downward drawn
To vanilla foam soft swirling
In the footprints of the dawn.
April 16, 2014
Yellow spreads her flowered self
all along my lane,
asking only for some warmth
and a little rain.
She might pose as Daffodil
or enjoy the fame
of the seeded beauty which
bears our sun’s own name.
Yellow makes the perfect gift -
roses for the friend
whom you know is sure to be
faithful till the end.
Yellow has a smooth gold hue
stirred into our tea
as the nectar made for us
by the honey bee.
But she isn’t always sweet.
Yellow is a tart
when she shows herself to us
with a lemon’s heart.
But she tastes so wonderful
even when not sweet,
buttering the popcorn that
most folks love to eat.
Nature uses her to paint
over leaves of fall.
Used by man, she covers curbs
or a bedroom wall!
Yellow whizzes through the streets
like the cabs downtown -
yet acts like a traffic light
when we should slow down!
In the jungle Yellow moves
lithely on the back
of a tiger, blending in
with its stripes of black.
We can smell, taste and see her
in so many things.
I can even hear her when
my canary sings.
Yellow, keep on shining in
wings of butterflies,
and keep looking down on us
from your sunny skies.
Written Feb. 7, 2014 In 7/5 Trochee Quatrain form
for the Here comes the sun ...Contest of Francine Roberts
I know it's there somewhere beyond the clouds,
Beyond the snow which slowly falls and falls;
The babes of summer covered like a shroud
And arborvitae's shoulders like a shawl.
A mellow hint of yellow somewhere dawns
And splashes through the trees its hopeful rays.
The golden glow in morning skies adorn
Horizon's clouds in colorful array.
Hues that lift the heart when winter goes;
When rapeseed blossoms smile back at the sun;
When white and pink and blue put on a show,
Through fields of green and yellow we will run.
Sunflowers stand and bow in prayerful hush
Like inspiration born from Vincent's brush.
Feb. 13, 2014
Violet, a lovely lady, kin to Purple, can be a contradiction.
Between her fellows Red and Blue (yet more inclined to Blue),
she lies with a calm passion! Unique and unconventional is she!
A symbol of humility, through the ages she has listened to confessions
as she draped the shoulders of Roman Catholic priests.
Yet often in society, she’s been seen as extravagant and vain!
Just for having embellished the rooms and the attire
of monarchs, emperors, and princes,
and just because Violet is flattering to the yellow found in gold,
should she then be punished for her wealth of beauty?
Should her shades with other lovely names such as
Lilac, Lavender, Amethyst, and Mauve
be seen in any other way as simply gorgeous?
Perhaps for her ambiguity as she shifts to deeper reddish hues
then back to cool blue, she is perceived in western culture
as uncertain and ambivalent, for she is not popular with the masses.
Van Gogh, however, understood her,
painting her as irises and showing her in swirls of stars!
And in the oriental world, where she is extolled,
she radiates the sublime harmony of the universe,
as the melding of the yin and yang of red and blue.
Violet, who sometimes spreads herself splendidly
across the twilight skies
and peeks out from rainbows,
is a beauty so rarely seen in nature
that the birds, stones and plants that she enchants
are not even too numerous to name.
Have you seen her purple pearl or coral in the sea?
Have you heard the song of African violet-backed starlings?
But oh! Violet loves flowers. . . Besides her small sweet namesake,
She colors crocuses, petunias, asters, geraniums and pansies.
Not many other things in nature does Violet cling to,
yet she adores the grape and plum,
and with a certain whimsy, she’s charmed purple cabbage,
the turnip, eggplant, and beets!
Rare lady in nature, Violet, my adored, why is it that you are not more loved?
As I cross a field of lavender and breathe you in, the answer to my question
When morning breaks in shades of wine...
with claret skies to blush the dawn...
I will stretch and yawn, and thank the night
for this polished, dappled day
I will wait until the sun is high, and dew upon the rose is dry
I'll have my cup, .. with toast and jam...
then, make escape, ..........for the quest begins,
to seek my small reward
It happens slowly...
gathering reason from an untamed mind
up into the meadow where the brambles climb
twisted and tangled, through the burgandy vines
deftly my fingers, while probing the maze
will reach for wild berries.....warm from the day
thumping their goodness, one after one
into the bucket, dented and worn
A search through thorns, a prick on my thumb
till my back is ripe, and wet in the sun
Finger painting my faded old jeans
Knowing my cheeks are flushing in pink
Sucking sweet juice from two crimson thumbs
Who cares a lick, of the thorns or a bee?
I am a bee, buzzing serenity...
plucking small bits of reason and sanity
taking home goodness in a battered tin pail
feeling alive, on this wild-flowered hill
Tonight's sweet delight, is warm berry cobbler,
oozing with goodness of juicy red gems
staining my tongue, and turning lips scarlet
dripping like blood drops onto my chin
Yet never as splendid, or tasting as fine,
as warmed by my smile, straight from the vine
Picking red berries, and freeing my mind
under clouds tinged vermilion
and a red crimson sun
For Shadow Hamilton's Contest: "Colours"
Somber is the color of the day...
The window glass, enhanced by dew, this dreary afternoon
Prisms of light from a pewter lamp, reflect upon on the fog
A rainbow splashed against the wall forms mirrors of my mood
While quietly, I sit, and ponder it all, my pen is close, my chin in hand
Pinned back, my strands, a sweater, old, is pulled around my chill
woven in colors, of various yarns, as varied as thoughts that take me away
My mind is lost in a wakened dream
While trees are tossed about in winter wind,
and leaves lay dead beneath the snowy mounds
a fire glows, and a storm now keeps me bound
One shard of light from a neighbor's home
across the hill, a distant mile
The dimness in a room from winter sighs...
then something sparks a word ...a line, .. a verse, ... a lullaby ...
The day is sadder than the words I had found...
so somber is the day that keeps me bound
I hide away this moment....a cup of tea, a Golden Lab for company..
One peek beyond the distant hill, a touch of sun
A glimpse of mountain, pastures deep, my dog that sleeps...
A momentary chance to free my soul
In just a brief, but deep departure from the ordinary...
I explore my thoughts, search my heart, wonder what this day will bring...
I watched old memories, long kept cold, ...unfold as if a dream
Unsort, relive, those worlds untold....
Exploring new words, I now have found
Stumbling through my mind, unintended
Watching the words tumble as if unattended...
Unfolding, exploding, and falling in chaos
Paying no mind to the reader's conception
Cleansing, pleasing, as my soul fits the pieces...
Beneficial.... to the reader...will it matter? Who knows?...
But a satisfying journey traveled and found
by myself....and for myself, ....as the one who's creating...
Looking out from blurry windows...a dark day continues ...
on a somber colored day, that kept me bound.....
For the Contest: Portrait of a Poet sponsored by Gautami Phookan
By Carrie Richards....10/31/10
One pair of toasted hands arise
O’er a ball of sunlit mustard splay
One yellow dress goes dancing through the wind
Silk hair unpinned
The rustles of a jadely grass,
Eyes half shut to buttercups of gold
She releases beauty
Like papaya whips of noonly breeze,
Upon a cluster
Of budding lemon trees,
Un-thatching scents of lemon chiffon hues,
O’er a painter’s brush stroke,
The scenery murmurs
Of mellow sunsets glow
She un-braids the honeycombs of summer,
And her amber aura’s glee is caught
Between the artists hand
And the canvass of his dreams
"A Piccadili’s Grapefruit Fantasy"
February 9, 2014
Contest: Here comes the sun for Francine Roberts