Beige Poems - Poems about Beige

Romance in Nature is filled with dancing and singing, and a little color. ~ Poet A sprightly creature shares my home. Little beige gecko, oft times green, regards my porch as if his own. Many hours he may be seen from railing to roof, and in between. My porch, his favored retreat, filled with ferns and jasmine yellow, provides his shelter, idyllic and...

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"Autumn in Padded Beige" Wrongfully writing of This leaf changing Season currently Without knowing or for Yes for no reason for Four walls my eyes Only seize on site of What sight sees Completely Confounded In confined Solitary...

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They make me wonder--- What fingers wove the tapestry of their being! The splash of violet here, mauve there, white with red stripes— They stand tall and do not bend till the wind forces them to. Though soft, they manifest dignity. When stress and depression shoot their thorns, A glimpse of these beauties spell discipline. ‘We are of the earth and...

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afternoon beige light olive trees in shadow shirts sun in the attic October 9, 2023...

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Are you beige? Do you speak with the rest? words with no validity, just like froth in the wind. Do you copy and try to emulate your neighbour to prove and justify who you are, by getting a big car . Do you dislike individuality? those who wear outlandish clothes, who think ,to you,crazy thoughts, Are your opinions always the right ones? and everyone else is...

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Feeling Beige by Bob Moore (2017) Are you always feeling beige that’s what we should call this age no longer young, but we are not old don’t like the heat, can’t stand the cold Nothing seems to be just right no...

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As I have walked pass or visited high-in rich subdivisions and gated communities, I have noticed all the homes are from the same color bracket. They are either beige, brown, cream, tan, camel, oatmeal, caramel, taupe… or a mixture of these colors, like half brown, half beige… Have you noticed that as well? I wonder...

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"Pourri Pourri - Remember Me" I am not white I am coloured A kaleidoscope of voice and song muted freedom sold for the price of a bale of wheat ground in the white man’s mill I become pale as sifted flour lost voodoo ghost whispered on wind song gone walk about in the Dream Time with all my brothers and sisters chained to...

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I have tanned feet mimicking my sandal straps my arms are spotted beige and brown There is green paint on two of my fingers I place my hand on a piece of paper Laugh and scoff that anyone could call me white I am not white in the least. I can see this by the contrast Even my fingernails are not white they are off-white if you...

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I don’t tend to worry about many things but one thing recently has played on my mind, something I have noticed that age defined the need to wear and fall in love with beige. If you see me wearing all beige then give me a shout, if you see me wearing beige then count me out, shoot me in the head...

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"BEIGE" Middle of the Road Consomme (You Know Who/April 2018) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Qv6p6pTz5I...

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The box structure of the tall apartment Disappears before my eyes I am looking from a beige and blue sky A lake arrives Boyhood of beehive The tree bearing yellow flowers Exchanging look with the cloud towers Your image Yet to be lost in the apartment's garbage Strums a guitar in the green shadow Of the tree Tunes of love Sound of infinity It is she Who splashes...

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Written In Beige Against the bleak bank wall he leans as the sidewalk moves sideways across his tangential thoughts. People pass, the dull parade, the money-grubbers and hoarders in their shiny suits that mock his existence. Sad clouds meld into a sullen gray sky…it must be raining somewhere. Clink! Silver coin rattles metal can. He wonders, when did the colours disappear? The pungent aroma from Mickey’s Taco Wagon...

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That obscene stare aggravates the silicon thrust. You become a victim of an upheaval. The white dwarfs have invaded the blackboard. You can get a glimpse of unsolicited rape. A cyanide capsule hangs on your chest. Will you commit a suicide after an unnatural kill ? It takes a toll. The abuse of the fingers. Instead of writing a name you print the cave. Satish...

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It’s been a while, Without her smile, Which lingers large In my recovering, Fallen heart, As time goes by, And truth sets in, The little scars On my canvas skin Begin to blend, Edges fade and I Become whole again. The drop she gave, Pure, like Chanel Beige....

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