Best Canary Yellow Poems
a balloon
canary yellow
the sun on her leash
AP: 1st place, Honorable Mention 2020, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on June 26, 2020 for contest STRAND COMPLETELY NEW POETRY (1) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
POTD - June 26, 2020
Sometimes when matters are in the gray,
it ain’t always black and white
There are times when emotions are deep blue,
canary yellow thoughts can make us wanna fly, shy away
Then, bright orange glowing memories
bring gentle, evergreen smiles
As time’s seasonal change sunset down on us
Being lifelong lovers, we got
amethyst purple hearts of courage
that beats with
ruby red rhythms of loving perseverance
Here at this humble, brownstone garden abode,
two pink carnations have budded and bloomed
Now looking at the graying of the skies,
we can see the rainbows in each other’s eyes
Reflecting the soul spectrum of our love
Martin came to a cleft in the rocks
The oriole must have gone this way
It was narrow and curving
A sudden turn, and everything seemed to change.
Shrill, reedy music of pipes filled the heavy air,
A smell of musk of goats and their dung.
Invisible cicadas sustained the piper's lament.
Suddenly, he found himself in front of a small but deep lake.
Weeping willows, large copper-coloured beeches
Surrounded by a large pool of azure water.
There was a calm tranquillity about the place
Whilst the air was saturated with a fragrance
Of exotic flowering lavender-like trees.
He heard a splash, and out stepped a young woman.
Her canary yellow elegant swimsuit
Clung wetly to her honey-coloured body.
Damp citrine hair formed a frame around an oval face
That was highlighted by an upturned, pointed nose.
He did not move but stood mesmerized,
Looking into her blue, limpid eyes.
A sweet smile shimmered on her lips.
"Hello," she said in a mellifluous voice.
Her smile was inviting. "My name is Goldie Oriole.
Come, sit near me
And tell me how you found this place."
To be concluded in Part 3
"Never paint except with the three primary colors [red, blue, and yellow] and their derivatives." Camille Pissarro
One primary color can make me feel mellow
when warm like honey heated up or like rays of a golden sun.
It’s flax, saffron, blond, and canary yellow,
cheerful like a daffodil and bumblebee fun.
It’s bananas too and a well-buttered bun!
The second and vivid primary color
spells energy, boldness, passion and power.
Cardinals make most other birds seem simply duller.
A symbol of love, rose reigns as a fragrant red flower,
while scarlet and crimson sunsets my eyes can devour.
The loveliest for me of these three colors is the hue
that melds with yellow, thus creating green.
Some jewels, blooms and berries are naturally blue.
Splendid is a dusk with the tint of an indigo sheen.
Oh, cerulean sky above seawater shimmering aquamarine!
March flower daffodil, canary yellow, a single bloom with the vernal equinox
Aquamarine birthstone, gift thyself a ring this birthday, wrapped in a jewel box
Romans marched on, this month they named after God of War, Mars, mythology
Caesar, Julius’s downfall 44 BC, oracle warns “Beware the ides of March” 15th
History has Texas no longer Mexico the 2nd of 1836, Independence of Lonestar
Mad as a March hare! The full Worm Moon peaks illumination the 25th afar
Animals mate, larva of worm thaw and emerge from hiding, and birds migrate
During Lenten abstain from meat on Fridays, give alms, read Sacred Scripture
NCAA March Madness kicks into gear, basketball fan’s cheer the lively picture
Easter, 31st Good Friday 29th, Palm Sunday, Purim 24th, and Ramadan on 11th
Saint Patrick’s is celebrated the 17th we're a wee bit Irish, if only for the day
Spring arrives on 19th, Daylight Savings on 10th set clock, spring forward we say
Canary yellow flowers herald in the spring.
So bold are we sitting in sea of green.
Most grown-ups look at us as weeds.
They pluck, dig, spray and mow with limited success.
The curse, when our yellow flowers turn fluffy white.
We have many seed gliders attached to our white heads,
Just waiting for the wind to blow our seeds, setting us all free.
Assaulting from the air, not caring where we land,
Settling in the soil and waiting for our germination to begin.
Remember when-
Dandelions were the flowers of your youth.
An act of playfulness, gingerly you picked our stalks,
And blew our fluffy white heads high up in the air-
In one breath was your goal,
Then watched our white swirls dance upon the wind.
So next time you pass by our fluffy white heads,
Become a child once more and blow.
For Sandy Ivy D's contest, "Seeds"
Look for me in springtime
Where barefoot children play.
Loving my fair complexion,
As it dances on display.
Eyes, canary yellow,
Edged in vermilion grace,
Mirrored by crystal pools,
Like stars of outer space.
Poems forever written
Catch my eternal bliss.
Stanzas continually stressing
Sweet semantics, this.
Lovely scented aroma
Tends, it seems, decry,
Solomon in grand glory
Was never adorned as I.
Elegant in splendor,
Lustrous petals white,
Narcissus Poeticus Actaea
A poet's fond delight!
As the bitter, piercing cold flees north, as the opaquely white snow makes an elaborate stratagem, a tortuous plan to revitalize next year, the viridescent grass begins to flourish and prosper, bringing an end to the biting winter. The juniper green leaves on trees begin to reinstall on the once dismal branches and the hibernating ophidians start to abandon their balmy, sheltered dens, and immerse themselves in the Sun's ultraviolet radiation and rejuvenating heat. The chirpy, sprightly birds perch themselves on the limbs of trees and ebulliently carol together and rejoice, for wintertime has vacated and the Sun has emerged from the billows of clouds. The cunning squirrels depart from their shelter, burdened with acorns. They scamper down the bark of trees and gleefully frolic and play in the grassy taigas of Siberia. The ravishing daisies begin to blossom, flaunting with their milky white petals and canary yellow pollen. As these plants and animals benefit from their transfiguring environment, gaiety and jollity radiates, for the somber subdued season has dematerialized and withdrawn from this ever-changing landscape.
They asked me what I wanted
For they would bestow it to me
But to be unambiguous in what I wanted
I wanted a yellow house
Painted in canary yellow
With a neat white trim all over.
With the most triangular angularity
Painted in the queerest brightness of white
In the front wall was to be a huge window
The most mammoth window
Carefully frosted
Depicting a grand piano of majestic magnitude
I would be in there playing, playing, playing
I would be in there playing, playing the piano
All of this would be perched on a biggest hill
The brightest green hill
The brightest yellow sun
All shining down upon me
As I play my piano
I acquired what I wanted
But forgot the tell them
I want friends to play with too
I want people to talk to too
But I forgot
I forgot the necessity of those
To talk to
Human relationships
I had a yellow house
Neatly painted a canary yellow
With white trim all over
With a roof of the most triangular angularity
Painted the queerest brightness of white
With a huge frosted window
With a great black, grand piano
All on top of the greenest, grassiest hill
All wrapped up for me
But for miles and miles
All around me
No one was there to talk to
All around me was the greenest, grassiest grass
Shining from the buttery sun
They even gave me beautiful flowers
But
They gave me
No one
To talk to
I sat there playing, playing, playing
My heart out
No one was there to hear it
Except the yellow house
The uncharted world outside
I would give
The yellow house
With all the white trim
With all the perfectly angular roof
With the frosted window
With the great piano
With the buttery sun
With the grassy hill
With the blue sky
Just for some company
My sundress hangs there limply,
needing me to fill it out.
The rains have been relentless
putting all sunshine to rout.
The ides of March have come and gone
without a sign of spring.
My raincoat and umbrella are
each such a ragged thing.
It’s now Easter vacation and
I’m yearning for some fun.
Today the rains have halted
and we have a bit of sun.
Excitedly I pull my sundress out
and down over my head.
“You must be careful you don’t burn,
is all my mom has said.
The other kids have come for me.
We head out for the day.
After downing the car's soft roof
we’re on our merry way.
Adventuring on the seaside,
water is too cold to swim.
The sandy beach is warming and
we are all young and trim.
In my canary yellow sundress,
I’m feeling very pretty.
To cover with unneeded wrap
would truly be a pity.
We romp and play like small children,
the whole of the spring day.
When evening breezes cool the air
we can no longer stay.
When Mother meets me at the door,
look on her face is stern.
“Why is it you won’t listen?
I told you, you would burn.”
My face and shoulders, arms and legs
are just as red as fire.
I meekly bare my shoulders
for the lotions they require.
I hope I’ve learned my lesson
as the pain is quite severe,
but my sundress will be calling
on first spring day, come next year.
By: Joyce Johnson
For Constance LaFrance's contest "The Sundress" Won 4th place
.
Females could'nt escape my pain
If she be the one who caused that
well let's say it's because I'm all bad
Not black but an Odyssey
Bouncing back in white noise
Count the scars now a Star shines
A speaker combines the tools
that be boost in my jets
Jax now be falling down in Airstrikes
I swear that girl there is airtight
As awesome as i say you're the perfect shape girl
And your face
Let's just say that God gave you someting to touch my mind with
To make me smile
Just to always be a vision I keep alive here
3 Angels surrounding us when we're together
Always available on a Godline
stay in touch
Gold mines No!
Cemetery's so big
Canary yellow ghost dressed in white mask
I turn the lights on and the blackout
I Jacks land right where I crashed out
Near the end, his skin turned canary yellow.
His fingers were as thin as an elegant cigarette.
His blue gem eyes sank just below the waterline.
Above the bed was a picture of an empty crucifix.
Pointing in the general direction of his final breath.
A few nights before he passed, he asked for a beer.
I poured him one into a dark coffee mug.
The old bus mechanic lightly chuckled...
said he couldn't see the rising bubbles.
I re-poured into an elegant glass, fit for royalty.
In the half-light, the amber halos rose to meet his lips.
He never did take a sip.
I had broken the rules but granted a king a pauper's wish.
Hummed inside carburetors,
like lungs do to lullabies,
I grasped my whitened vertebrae,
and crumpled it up
as if I were child without a spine.
Like papyrus on a good day,
I scribbled abstract feelings
(the kind I am incapable of feeling)
and wrote them in verse;
told everyone I was emotional
and needy.
Such a good, big, girl.
I ripped the spinal cord
away from my ribs,
and when I felt
just a little weak -
I tossed it into an honest graveyard-
one built for me,
to house my restraints
and abilities.
'Cause I don't want to feel
what I can't.
And when I split my vertebrae
between my teeth and cuticles,
I can see the light
that once grew inside my lullaby
fade into an anti-positive.
Boring holes into sunset canary yellow,
sprouting between the dirt that's my smile.
I would break every bone in my chest,
if I knew it'd cause any sort of pain.
After all, there's no use for a woman
that hasn't got a backbone.
Burgundy
My dear Burgundy, I heard a purple, splendid tapping
Burgundy you color my heart, my soul
You, Oh!, so you said only this you’re in trappings red
I crave the crimson, cerulean canary yellow this I dread
And the rubies never overdrawing
And the rubies always daunting
Ever so settle,
I am shorn of my bedfellow
Violet. . .
Burgundy you color my heart, my soul, you’re the water in my veins
Sweet purple haze
Remembering many colorful, striking roses
The chromatic colored cultivating
Arose so illuminating!'
And eyes have all and augmenting
As myrtles came launching invigorating
This and a beryl
I have dreamed of the stems
And so I screamed, 'Is that brown?
Burgundy you color my heart, my soul you’re my flower
Eagerly I looked for the claret the pea coat laughed
Orange bled red as brown embraced them
I stand by burgundy she’s all that…better than any fine vintage wine
8/24/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
The term driver of victory
came to me unbidden, unexplored
I tossed it around in my dendrite chambers
My muse caught it and ran with it
She is amusing, but she has great ideas too
She decided Victory was a race car,
We daringly painted her in our favorite colors.
Hot pink, canary yellow, and outrageous orange.
Victory was beautiful, gloriously bright.
She showed up all of the other race cars
They were dull in their silly primary colors
With wraps from well-known sponsors
We stood beside Victory in our silky race car jackets
painted in hot pink, canary yellow and outrageous orange.
The other cars cried, they were so intimidated.
Let the race begin!
Written 6-04-2019
Contest: Driver of Victory Verse
Sponsor: Julia Ward