Best Brownish Poems
Dark Knight-tress
Underneath
This gown I feel nothing
Silk less feelings
The odor of intimate apparel lessens
Vanity fare from any sun
Warrior of beauty
Where have you gone?
A fortress of gloom
Not even death wants in
Black nail tips
Brownish plum lips
I close my eyes
I see them all
The Shadows
Climbing over my soul
The darken deepens
The stars dim my view
Irremovable makeup
Land becomes an enemy
I become
The Dark Knight-tress
Scolding my next victim
~S~
Categories:
brownish, abuse, dark, evil, fantasy,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Round and round I go
Unfolding my spirit of envy and gold
The nascence of a new stone
Hazel room, vibrant lilac sky,
Deep orange haze in a tender place
Arms of sapphire and cornflower blue
Fuchsia beauty drips, covering my ruby lips
All colors drift
On the first day, we met
Visions of dark slate-gray fade away
Firing up the new-age gem
Turning and creating different stars
Magic mint skies
White antique petals follow the current of air
Opal dreams, clouds embedded with impurity
My heartbeat produces flashing colors
The palest amethyst bluebonnet forever fields
Flawless tear-drop streams
Diamond shaped love
Ruby Red promises to keep
Flowing into the deep
Every color spins new
The day I fell in love with you
Peridot lime green tint
A love as old and gray
Olive brownish sun
Honeydew skin
Our future, deeper than aquamarine
Every day you turn fresh new seasons in me
Changing the sequence in my colors and effect
Kaleidoscope Eyes
Reflect by the mirrors of you
Crystallizing everything
Categories:
brownish, beauty, color, deep, devotion,
Form:
Free verse
HEART OF RUST
Today is another day.
My heart is turning brownish-red.
I walked away with nothing to say.
My words are now all rusted.
Without regretting yesterday.
I hide behind the face of the dead.
My world has turn upside down.
Suddenly my body is heartless.
My memories drip like water into the ground.
My blood swirls making my veins useless.
The stale oxygen leaves my body with no sound.
Pouring rain decaying my stubborn heart's illness.
Living in a forever color of dusk to dawn.
My heart continues the cascade with dust..
Reversing the feelings wishing they where gone.
I'm lost in this sickness, of no trust
Storing my heart in a forever pawn.
In hopes that no one ever removes the rust.
By; p.d...
.p.s., I know these poem does not follow the rules... Lol..but I had an old rusted poem..laying around....
Categories:
brownish, epicheart, body, heart,
Form:
Rhyme
An Autumn sunrise lights a maple tree
October’s hues are edged with olive green
The vibrant background cheers the season’s glee
The mountain ridges back the misty scene
Big bears are searching after mountain caves
While mallards fly before the snow begins
The ridges form astounding leafy waves
Where folks are cutting fully-grown pumpkins
The red hawk soars beyond the dew drenched morn
hence he denies to perch and lifts above
his flight creates designs the skies adorn
and dogs pursue raccoons around foxglove.
A lively squirrel scampers to and fro
Gray rabbits bounce amid the splendid leaves
And sparkling streams outrace the brownish doe
With the adieu of summer as she grieves.
Iambic Pentameter
August 8th, 2014
©2014 by Regina Riddle
Categories:
brownish, autumn, grief, summer,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
In the harvested field near the canal,
she roams with a mind slid from its rail.
Her muddy skirt and brownish hairs
flutter in the salty wind like flags of insanity.
A lonely night – the west wind smells the burnt canal fish.
Fire burns like her emotions on the bank.
“During the windy season, lunacy’s let loose” – her shrieks
and shouts are neglected in the rural logic a night.
As her stomach swells like a ball day by day,
many questions bulge out.
First printed in my book, 'Moonlight and Solitude'(Raspberry Books, India).
Categories:
brownish, sad,
Form:
Verse
Mars Bars
I think they painted it all red
so that we’d think it really dead
get the thought out of our head
they would let us share a bed.
Perhaps they hacked Mars “google maps”
to screw up our best thinkers caps
installed the “red-dead” planet app
in brownish shade of crusty past
to insure we’d change our mind
look elsewhere in our search to find
another place to colonize
after this one slowly dies.
They have watched our pestilence
defy the laws of common sense
will not succumb to our pretense
good neighbors do not need a fence.
John G. Lawless
6/22/2015
submitted to – Subject Mars – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Joe Maverick
Categories:
brownish, environment, future, humor, planet,
Form:
Verse
Reflecting on his life and on his deeds,
he thinks how like this ending time of day,
his life is mirrored here among the reeds
beneath peach twilight clouds tinged brownish grey.
Yes, like these clouds, his life was peachy when
he started out. But challenges arose.
He couldn’t deal with them, and it was then
this peaceful life of solitude he chose.
Uncomplicated – like a placid lake -
is how he's lived, and with a narrow view.
For no big chances ever did he take
while drifting like a simple small canoe.
As long as there remains day’s last gold light,
he’ll bask until he’s swallowed by black night.
For Anoucheka Gangabissoon's In the Mirror of Life Poetry Contest
Categories:
brownish, life,
Form:
Sonnet
Why wake when first takes fade to night
Why wake when days evade your plight
Don’t ask to rule when thrones you lost apply,
To things you wish, keenly brewing bright
Don’t say you know
when the sun’s last chance arrives
Arrange your passions however you wish
And twist your eyes when they bewitch
Don’t ask of men to fashion a new breed
…the thought, of course, relies on me
Don’t look again
as I slip and slip
In fact your rangy words subscribe
to bottled pride repacked and retooled inside
To every hint of light this way derived
the prospect of insightful sparks you blight
Don’t send me a word
if my memories from your words may die
Don’t sign a cloud with brownish words of clay
A cloud is seen worldly through light and rays
Your words for clouds could thus retain
a will to cast all light aside and rain
Don’t cry for two
when clouds rephrase your words and fade
Don’t tell the truth
that saintly words of love unsaid remain
Categories:
brownish, emotions, love,
Form:
Light Verse
She sat near a pool of brownish waters.
Perplexed by her own reflection.
The wind tender on her hair,
Tossing it eastward.
Drying her imbrued face,
From days of sobbing,
Leaving dull lines that stretched
From her pale eyes,down her haggard lion.
She never wore a smile
As brilliant as the sun.
They only burn,her.
Reawaking her tears
From their subtle base
Beneath her eyes.
She considered them,a tragic representation of her
life.
She decked her face with cowardice.
Never regretted,nor did she skedaddle from it,
The lies she once told herself.
They were now,dreams she woke up to,now and
then.
Expressionless,she sat,
On cold dead grass.
They sent chills to her bones.
Her mind hovering through the empty space,
That is her her own schema.
And the world that lies beneath her bruised nose,
Covered in blood and fear,
The stench of terror,
Quite familiar to her.
They were like marks on her back.
They stayed with you for a life time.
Misery was something she owned.
They burnt in her dark brown eyes.
You could see their talons lashing restlessly,
Drawing those who cared for a scare.
The tears that flooded her garment
Jog the memory of her own consciousness,
That she still did feel something.
Something painfully passionate.
Something,realer than her fragile image.
Those tears were reminders
Reminding her,that she,can still think.
Think of events that stole
All the life she knew,
Will ever know.
She stood at the edge of destitute,
As hard as it was,
It brought her solace.
Her hopes raise at the east,
Settling west with the sun.
She seeks no remedy,
But an audience.
An audience at least.
****DEDICATING THIS ONE TO
POETDESTROYER.SHE IS THE REASON WHY IM
HERE.ITS BEING A WHILE THOUGH...MISS IT ON
HERE***
Categories:
brownish, art,
Form:
Prose Poetry
When I first saw her
She was only a few hours old
Instinctively kicking her long legs
Howling
To escape
I knew then
She was
A fighter.
Attracted
To an old drawer
I found
Faded photos
Forgotten pieces
Of crumpled notepaper
Their energy
Taking me back
To a time when
Her hair was brownish gold
Round face
Took baths in a yellow tub
Cradled in the kitchen sink
And cried
When her mother
Worked on weekends.
Eyes closed
I remembered
When she was seven or eight
I would read to her
While she played
With her dolls
Occasionally stopping
To look up at me
With her big brown eyes
One night she asked
Daddy do I have any friends?
I told her she had many friends
Imaginary friends too
Like Ooh Poo Poo Doo
Who would always be with her
That’s a strange name Daddy, she said
Brushing the hair
From her eyes
I said
It’s not the name or how you say it
It’s the friend that counts.
One Spring day
She came back home
Tall
Well dressed
Confident
Her friends crowded the living room
As my wife and I left
I smiled
Remebering the words
It’s not the name or how you say it
It’s the friend that counts.
Words
My daughter
Kept in her heart.
Categories:
brownish, familyold, friend, hair, me,
Form:
Narrative
When We Know A Cool Apple Cider Would Be Nice
Brownish red hues emitted from angry red skies
Such depths of emotions sometimes are born from lies
Much as rattle-snake rings it tails before it bites
Poor country boy sang, save me, just before he dies
And there was no angel to save him that black-night
As wild river turns and floods the new founded town
The town throng asked who is wrong and who is right
All the hero gave them was a tormented frown
The storm smiling idlily, at first hides its face
Then it gave forth rampant lightning and heavy blows
When all was over we had such a torn up place
We knew that old man Satan had played his show.
Asking ourselves if the pain is worth the damn price.
When we know, a cool apple cider would be nice.
Robert J. Lindley, Sonnet
April 5th 1974
Note
Sometimes we know that making the decision is much harder than the actual fight will be.
Categories:
brownish, courage, deep, integrity, people,
Form:
Sonnet
She was gazing at the immaculate beauty
A sunset melting golddrops in the horizon.
A combustion of pink and purple in dusk
igniting a ruby fire in the twilight canvas.
He was gazing into her beautiful eyes,
brownish blue, infusing a calm comfort.
A pastel sky in shades of soft fuchsia,
coalescing a marmalade with mauve.
Ribbons of colors drizzled honey,
idyllic moments enveloped in love.
lingering sunrays outlined a dream,
cicadas sang in blue background.
They wished the sun would never end
looking for a shelter in night's doorway.
But the sun must set to rise elsewhere,
this testament of love, only once a day.
Categories:
brownish, love,
Form:
Free verse
THE BLUE PLANET
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
This beautiful blue planet that we call earth
No one really can confirm its origin or birth
Some declare it was shaped by a powerful being
Others state the result of a cosmic unveiling
It just seems to be a tiny body in limitless space
With the right conditions to beget the human race
Orbiting at the right distance from a giant star
Allowing flora and fauna to propel exemplar
Giant creatures once roamed the face of the earth
But a cataclysmic event caused their dearth
Doom for the giants was a boon for the small
Leaving crevices and oceans learning to crawl
And so after millions of years we arrive at now
We’ve nearly conquered the why and almost how
Yet we still have questions that surely remain
Is there a will to cease our destructive reign
The Danube was once blue now a brownish pink
The elusive snow leopard is nearly extinct
Most lakes, rivers and even the smallest rill
Are polluted with toxins and chemical spill
Fish caught in streams and canals are taboo
Not to be eaten too much mercury in them for you
Drinking water once availed from natural sources
Are now mostly dependent on commercial choices
The rainforests of Micronesia and the amazon
Sadly, in a hundred years they will all be gone
These sources of oxygen and absorbers of co 2
So essential in sustaining the me and the you
The trends are apocalyptic needing repress
Difficult decisions and actions may render success
Problems are exacerbated by human concentrations
Rapidly expanding and demanding, teeming populations
As resources erode and demand constantly increases
Harbingers of the agonies awaiting the human species
The answers are clear but politically unheard
Populations need reductions, a thinning of the herd
Categories:
brownish, destiny, earth, environment, future,
Form:
Rhyme
Interlude with Ana Luisa
I hold you closely in my arms
I feel your soft breathing within
While little curls touch my skin—
Soft brownish gold under my chin
I hold you near my little charm
Together we look to the sky
Counting the stars; one, two, three, four;
You sit quietly admiring more
And, I know what I am here for
Bonding, my granddaughter and I
You dance your way into my heart—
Singing angelic tunes, you ruled
Turning simple into jewels
Winding joy onto my heart-spool;
I hold you closely – soon we’ll part
@2011 – Evelyn Pearl Carpenter Anderson
Categories:
brownish, family, granddaughter,
Form:
Words To A Wren
They have not taken thee, thou art too small
To tinge their fancy with a moment's flush;
Thy safely lieth in a ruined wall,
Thy plainsong blendeth with loud water's rush.
In dusky shade thy duskier shadow flits
Beside the pathway; friendly in thy flight;
No wrath of Heaven scares thee from thy wits,-
Thou art a brave and homely little wight.
What man can tell the meaning of the tongue
Thy presence in our memory uttereth?
What say you the thoughts of thee that wind among
Our travels on the ways of life and death?
If our hearts knew that secret we should be
Lords of the legend of our destiny.
Robert J. Lindley
presented , 3-10-2016
Note:
1. Wren- The wrens are mostly small, brownish passerine birds in the mainly New World family Troglodytidae. About 80 species of true wrens in roughly 20 genera are described. Only the Eurasian wren occurs in the Old World, where in Anglophone regions, it is commonly known simply as the "wren", as it is the originator of the name. The name wren has been applied to other, unrelated birds, particularly the New Zealand wrens (Acanthisittidae) and the Australian wrens (Maluridae).
Most wrens are small and rather inconspicuous, except for their loud and often complex songs. Notable exceptions are the relatively large members of the genus Campylorhynchus, which can be quite bold in their behavior. Wrens have short wings that are barred in most species, and they often hold their tails upright. As far as known, wrens are primarily insectivorous, eating insects, spiders, and other small arthropods, but many species also eat vegetable matter and some take small frogs and lizards.[1]
Categories:
brownish, beautiful, bird, blessing, flying,
Form:
Classicism