Once eyes like a Colored Diamond
Now nothing but a mere Stone.
She wanted to Run away
Not from Life
But from Present.
Her thoughts Becoming deeper than Galaxy
Hiding an Ocean behind her eyes.
She Prayed everyday
Not for a Miracle
But for a Change
Her forced charm
Looking not so dim.
She cries, she smiles
She pauses, she grinds
But the silence grows
She wants to Shine
Not for herself
But for the Lost ones like her,
Who are surrounded but lost,
Appear complete, but deep inside incomplete.
Too tired to carry the drench
She realized she was the Change
And started her Journey again
This time with a
Beautiful Heart like a Colored Diamond.
youre a red apple
the outside i devour in large, juicy bites
as much as my teeth can fit with all corners stretched wide
youd think to do the same at the core
But cracking bitterness brings seeds
scratch small bites, an itch
Jaw working, bony indents stiched
I like the way my tendons flex
Palm spread to grasp that hard fruit off the wiry stem
The core delicate
Slurping juice of whats left
The carcass melts into a brown sugar debt
Back to the earth you go to be reborn again
Sad on gloomiest of days
the simple colour crimson makes me smile
~ who knew so little mattered
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Venus dropping chandelier dreams
Jupiter glides catching cocoa creams ~
lymph drops glisten diamond formation
topaz glide froth transmutation ~
Wit
Where were you when I was arrested at a public toilet for drinking
of a flask of brandy- the man beside me was a police officer out
to catch people like me who needed a drink to survive the tedium of
living in a provincial town in the middle of a landscape of cows
Where were you during the court case when the judge said I was
a disgrace, a plague on the backside of humanity, drinking in public
It is a serious crime, the buffoon thundered, throwing the gavel at me
It hit a guard in the head, who was knocked out
Where were you when I had to run the gauntlet of jeering reporters
and people pointed me out in the street, and a hush when
I entered a café, and the waitress refused to serve me coffee
You went on holiday in Spain, drinking red wine.
What is the color of love per se
is it heart pumping red
that gets to your head
or crimson velvet like my chalet
How shall I sketch and paint you
should I outline you in opaline
or trace you in soft green
can I easily blend in with you
Do we make a picture perfect painting
for all eyes to see
or is it just you looking at me
don't mind me... if I do a little tinting
What color is love when it sits alone
does it reflect every shade
of your personal parade
is it hard to hold, or easily atoned
What is the color of love ? Tell me.
Note: Per se is a latin word. It means, "By Itself"
She doesn't want to be normal
To be known as sensible
There is nothing she won't do
No joke, she will not tell
To her, insanity is normal
Normality is insanity
When she dies, she has one request
Find the brightest, gaudiest outfit around
Add some glitter and rhinestones
And bury her face down with her ass in the air
Maybe a small sign with an arrow
Showing people where her ass is
So they can all kiss it for her
© XI/IX/MMXXV
LRET
Charlie Kirk shot dead
America’s soul, bled
Red, the color of conversation
~ absent communication
Thought of making a statue of you
Then had an idea that a portrait would be better
Remembering all your fine lines with no flaws
Your beauty of distinction
Perfection in your eyes by the artist
Your face glistens under the moon light
Beacons like the stars that twinkle
Paint in creation that everyone will see and admire
Your eyes will be painted in 3D
Capturing your moving portrait like a Queen
Color contrast
Image from the heart
Stand out
Inspiration you gave
First time we met
As the French say “Amore” on my mind
Your picture will be like a love story chapter that never ends
Captivated me
Through the different brushes of color
Relish the goodness and quality
Masterpiece reality.
[Poet’s Note : this is a wry autobiographical memory written in traditional pirouette verse viz. 2 quintains, line 5 & 6 repeat, which is the toe turnaround. I wanted to write a narrative of a weird syncopated vignette, when I was knitting a pink mohair jersey at the time of my imprisonment. I reduced the narrative to a pirouette. When in prison, one of my interrogators was knitting the EXACT jersey in the exact colour & exact wool ! ie. in the final analysis, (in retrospect) everything in human life can be reduced to a pirouette, a turn-around dance ! ]
knitting a pink jersey
mohair with cables fine
to process flying thoughts
political activist
south africa turmoiled
south africa turmoiled
security police
came with casspirs and cuffs
interrogation chamber
police knit jersey pink
~~~~~~~~~
Poetry paints prismatic word-pictures
A cubist painting programmed in plain air
Poetry and painting prize pure features,
For centuries, art crafted with grand care
Let us journey to juxtapose the two
Both attract the primeval painters' flair
With colours in rich red, yellow, and blue
Words sketching with wise theatrical care.
Try to catch and caress the words you see
Draw sights and sounds into your fractal soul
Organic lines jotted down joyously
As fractal forms that fill Metatron's scroll
Golden spirals smeared in an author's room
Are geometry's homage on a loom.
sunshine on warm september mornings
autumn eases in quiet and on tiptoes
love in many splendoured colours
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 3rd place 2025
A sketchbook from back then
was stained with abstract colors
like our ten fingers
why didn't we arrange bright colors back then?
black, blue, and white
mixed together without a basis
I remember very well
how the pattern was ultimately
ruined by the darkness
while you labored
on your own sketch
and I only knew a little about that fetish
We grew like shoots
far away from the colors back then
like a line that had been etched
sometimes we disappeared
I still live with bangs on my forehead
exactly the same as back then
and you still like classic cars?
maybe we've only gone a few steps
Count 20, open eyes
ahh, that's just a coincidence
I still scold Wednesday
but you look good
with those stripes
Sometimes you give in
waiting for me to run awkwardly across
you strummed that music
making me confused
guessing your dream last night
but you were far more confused
because you didn't say anything
Do you still remember
the flaw in my eye?
While I was still writing poetry
I seemed to be starting to forget the calm
shape of your Adam's apple
when you drew black lines on our sketch.
autumn lingers unfinished
though cold drops november
rain and waits undiminished
'til native summer sun remembers
what could unmake
when days full ache
bloom autumn colors
quick winter all borders
golds greens yellows
reds purples browns
a rusted rainbow frowns
as leaves scoot over meadows
fallen from mountain forest
after fields have given harvest
a father of one teaches his son.
chase catching leaves for fun
they twist turn swivel pirouette
lunge leap slide slice 'til earth is whet
while boy staggers with arms stretched
missing while dad knows misdirect fetched
two and three leaves while son fustrated
cries to quit but egged on infuriated
at last by chance or by experience
claps and traps one in victory dance
Copyright © Cornelius Brantley | Year Posted 2024
Specific Types of Color Poems
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Definition | What is Color in Poetry?
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