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Best Colour Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Colour poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of colour poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Poems are below...



New Colour Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Colour poems are below this new poems list.

The Colour of Time by McConnell, Gordon
I borrowed a colour from the ocean by Raynes, Lewis
Autumnal Colour Show by Ruwindi, Kaveesha
EVERY COLOUR by Thakrar, Twinkle
The Colour blue by Robinson, Michael
Car Colour by Ellison, Jack
Africa:our spirit,our sound,our colour by Oribamise, Olajide
A Sea Of Colour by Smith, Gary
More colour than you see by wade, fauxcroft
'OFF-COLOUR' by Trenholme, Colin

View all new Colour Poems

The Best Colour Poems

Details | Colour Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Cathartic Weave Of Three

Listen to poem:
listen, the whispers of leaves turn colour autumn is here. now that you are gone who will wake every morn to lift the sun unveil the sky etch in the clouds who will paint the rainbow? i had a dream and in the dream i wove you a poem i used the fiber of my character to create spools of silken thread dipped in the juices of my passion i dyed them in the colors of my imagination re-enforced each and every single strand with the strength of my love touch, the echoes of the rain - waters - blossoms spring. now that 'us' is just a word no longer with you as one i alone wind up metal toys cut out paper dolls the beach swept from under my feet the child in me flees. spun spools from the intricacy of my spirit designed a pattern to the rhythm of the music of my inner thoughts enamoured in your vision crystal beads gather on my brow as i toil your finely bred gift as i braid every part of me with every memory into every sliver of fabric taste, uncut snow shapes crisp cold ices the wintertide. instead now rusted a fools gold chain of loneliness hangs around my neck like a noose mourns a union that once had breath a twosome that now is dead. see, the sand sculptures paint rekindle a childhood summer past. sew in the loving glow emits my flawless dreams with my boiling blood initial my woven piece my work at an end i awake you lay there a wingless angel asleep smiling as if you heard a bell ring your boundless warmth embraces me the moon no longer smiles the stars no longer wink smell, seasonal airs stimulates senses memories they deliver. without a touch barely - i kiss you. in this my decade of one hope is a wickless candle the night just day without light in the glee, hopes and dreams, in the human spirit, lives the miracle of life. magnificent voices in every pitch deep and resounding, the melody of echoes and whispers – uncut. Jan 4 2017 With Love Armand


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2017


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A girl named Sue

POTW 1 Oct 2018

Gossip about her
swept the school yard through
“Hey if you’ve got what it takes 
There’s this girl named Sue
For a pack of smokes
or a drink or two
She’ll kiss you ~ she’ll please you
like no other girl can do”

Her fuchsia glossed lips
Matched the colour of her hair
Her legs went on forever
She had a self-assured flair
He yearned for those baby blues 
to stray his way
How did the cool guys snare girls 
come what may?

Dreams on his pillow a teenage fantasy Were seconds away from becoming a manly reality She promised to meet him in the park one night Two packs of Marlboro’s Under the pale moonlight A brief kiss on the lips then as she swiftly turned to go He yanked her back hard and as she fell to the floor A fantasy was shattered Hopes tossed away ~ abused Feelings of rejection Cast aside and confused
He lived in an era Where double standards were applauded Girls were shamed For going all the way Boys rewarded However integrity doesn’t stoop to lows no need to impress Head high as he walked it was not worth the stress
The journey was his ~ along this untrodden road Tomorrow ~ todays rejection would be yesterday’s episode Every step away from her was a gentle elixir Then came her words on the wind ~ barely a whisper
‘Hey ~ I’m a virgin too ~ and a skank I’m not They sully my name and my character they blot The smokes are for my mum it eases her pain And for my sick Ma I’ll do this again and again’ Continued in 'Tears on her pillow'...


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2018


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True Colors


Eyes are the windows of a soul and they say ‘Love is blind’
But how do you describe colour to a sightless person?

Such depths to your violet eyes
The windows of your Soul
A flickering source of emotions
Speaking volumes ~ though sightless 

Not limited by vision Not obscured by darkness Your dazzling beauty of true colour Conceals your inner world Of complex greys Your smiles create rainbows That stay All through my day
In a world of colour For some eyes Sadness and mistrust linger Your eyes mirror only Beauty and Hope ~ Love and Joy
You ask for a detailed description of the colour of your eyes How can I? Futile will be my try No Master’s artistic brush can decipher That deeper shade of violet
Changing like the sun’s ceremonial display Retaining an aura of mystery Seeking only truth In your abstract blur of colour
Though ~ let me try Here place your hand on my heart How can one see colour If it can’t be felt
Look through my eyes Feel that majestic sky With its beautiful variations of blue Serenading the aqua sea below Through sparkles of iridescent silver bursts A tinge of pearly pink lazily drifts past
I hastily dip my brush just a touch Do you see? Swirling pink with the blue Another dip into the aqua of the sea Hints from the bushes of lilacs below A smidge of the red poppy Blended till it’s the right shade of a violet hue
Can you feel my colour? Behind your veil of black velvet? My humble artistic attempt Going beyond my range of limitations
Your eyes glow in approval In that spinning vortex of violet complexity ~ We dance in your world of darkness As you whisper to me ~ that your eyes have always seen the stars. We both look~~~~~incredulously ~~~~~at the same spot A starburst ******************of light A ~~~~~~~~~~~~~shooting~~~~~~~~~~~star My wish ~~~~~~~~~~for you~~~~~~~~~~my love To be ~~~~~~~~~~~~forever and~~~~~~~~always as Brilliant as~~~~~~~~~~*********~~~~~~~~~~~you are ** ** *** *** ***** **** ****** ****** ******** ********
True Colors movie clip – with vocals Anna Kendrick and Justin Timberlake


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2018


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A Small Bouquet Of My Word Groupings


you were an infant
i would sing a song i created for you

'there's a baby in my arms
there's a baby in the mirror
but honey 
there's not really two
the child in the mirror
is only 
an image 
of you'

in that same vein i write this

_

you can't hide inside a mirror
it wouldn't be good for your image
if you see what i mean
take a minute to reflect on that thought
frame it as you will
raise a glass to good cheers
this isn't the time to crack
or 
feel shattered 
no 
it is the exact reverse

like skipping a rock across the smooth surface of a lake
seven skips of good luck
because you are the fairest of them all

looking back at yourself 
keeping it compact
as you duplicate your own words 
impossible to read from the other side
this echo of your vision

the epitome of a prototype replicates

ditto 

who is the quintessential hero and who is the fake

go through that rabbit hole -straight to wonderland

bedazzle -radiate -glimmer -scintillate 
deflect
the glare will define you

you have not now or have ever been a duplicate
you are and will always be the one and only
-


Oct 2 2017 - love above all else love - armand

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BONUS POEM

But Tell Me Where Do The Children Play 

you can't lie your way to the truth
what we teach our children 
should apply to us too
you took a wrong turn
check your moral compass
the needle is spinning faster
than a bottle in search of a kiss 
what would our mother think
if she knew what you were up to
you're changing everything she fought for
in her life children mattered
like the singing preacher asked
such a long time ago
'...where do the children play...'

you can argue climate change
but you can't deny the quality of the air your breathing
when did we start bottling water just to take a drink
the taps are bleeding led 
too late to fix the guts of generations who drank it with trust
how do you look at a storm in the eye
didn't you already prove your blind
or do you keep yours closed so no one can look in
look deep inside your heart 

'...tell me, where do the children play?…'

Oct 2 2017- armand

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 BONUS POEM THE SEQUEL

Me? I Saw More.

the clown danced like a marionette 
his painted face featured a grimace
and

and a tear

me?
i saw more

i smiled
no fear here

a performer 
an amazing mime artist
a procurer of pathos

he was pulling a little red wagon
with a large orange hard ball
walking on the spot
performing 'funny'

me?
i saw more

we often have to carry more 
than we think we can handle
our shoulders grow
atlas carried the earth on his shoulder
when we think we can do no more
we do even more than we need to

i saw more
the power of one
we don't need help
we need initiative 
no brother or sister's need
is less important than our own
'give and you shall receive'

we are all more
it takes a strong child 
to raise the values of a village
i can't win unless we all win
we have tried the blame game
five thousand years later

nothing

we are being led by weak men
want bigger and bigger guns
at a time when we have enough weapons
destroy the earth hundreds of times over

money is 
has always been
evil

me?
i see more
i see you
and you 
and you

ghandi was right then
ghandi is right now

do you see

Oct 2 2017- armand

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 BONUS POEM THE SEQUEL TOO

Firefly


i am going to touch you
like a firefly touches 
the dead of night
lights the obscurity 

i want to illuminate 
the pitch dark of your perspective 
inject a bright glow of hope
cleanse your thoughts of the negative

did you argue today 
felt regret
did the daily news invade your cheer
turned your 'in the pink' to something 'blue'

i am going to reignite  your sense of calm
wave a wand -make your heart smile 
warm your complexion to a glow
spread your goodwill worldwide

life i assure you isn't a rotting corpse
you have the strength 
rise above the doom and gloom
you are presently living

the alternative is an untimely exit
unnecessary 
i believe in laughter
and i believe in unconditional love

more
i believe when your back is against the wall
persistence will create a door
a passageway out of the muck and mire

no matter how thick the fog
it only takes a breeze
to clear a path
one you can ride to your destination of choice

Oct 2 2017- armand

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BONUS POEM THE REBOOT

Colour Me Ill 

i tried to fly today
nothing deep here
this isn't that type of poem
didn't go that well
i fell flat on my fa fa fa face
(pardon my stutter
a temporary side effect of the fa fa fa fall)

i wasn't writing any poetry
at the hospital either
all joking aside 
there was a lot of blood
did you know that doctors 
have no sense of humour

i was slurring anyways
you gotta love that morphine
they were cleaning up the blood
i said thanks dr. acula 

not even a snicker
and i'm not speaking of a chocolate bar
wasn't even my joke
stole it from Mitch Hedburg

coincidentally the doctor left me in stitches

the nurse said she was taking me for an X-ray 
i didn't really hear her but she was a knockout
something ..x 
sounded go go good to me
i was running in front of the wheelchair she was pushing
i was excited

we got somewhere 
she left
you gotta love that morphine
i must of impressed them
they thought i was a model
they took pictures of me
Bi Bi Big pictures
you should of seen the size of the negatives 
i ordered ten sets 

they pushed me outside and left
pa pa par for this course

suddenly my nurse date was back
they always come back

aanndd 
she's gone 


Oct. 2 2017- armand




Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2017


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On One Knee

Listen to poem:


if you wanted to dance with me
i mean really wanted to dance with me
then i would
i would dance with you

if you needed me to walk on water
i would stand there until the lake froze
then i would
i would walk on water for you

if you suggested i climb 
a mountain 
warm at the bottom
freezing at the peak 
i'd buy you a snow globe
turn it upside down and up
hold your hand warm 
watch the freezing snowfall
climb your suggestion creatively

if you mentioned 
you'd like me to paint your portrait 
i'd buy every different colour of acrylic paint I could find
blend them on a canvas
paint your colourful internal portrait
every crayon in the box 
that's who i see

if you said move me
i wouldn't hire a truck
or even touch one stick of furniture
i would write this poem for you
put a bow on it
fingers crossed 
i would move you

your lips are always on my mind

if you want a man
willing to do...
...a man...
...hold you gentle but firm

i'm here 

ring in hand 
on one knee

November 28 2016





Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016


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Shine

Shine as a source of endless light
whose rainbows of colour deter the night
where daydreams are gentle as doves in flight
and sleep the sleep of angels

Shine like a shower of soft moonbeams
Inhabit the sea of a thousand dreams
where laughter and love are timeless themes
and sleep the sleep of angels

Shine like the sun in a golden sky
On warm, sultry evenings, a fragrance, a sigh
an echo of summer as life passes by
and sleep the sleep of angels


Copyright © Greta Robinson | Year Posted 2005


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Jesus

On the day our eyes open to the prism of the sun On that day, Winter solitude would be gone The avalanche of differences melts into nothingness Through the same breath,through the same soul We would live again as one ,no matter who we are No matter the colour of our skin,Gay or straight rich or poor,innocent or once found guilty. No matter if We are lawyers,prisoners,doctors or pheasants No matter our political believes ,nor our different religions A catholic,a muslim,a buddhist , a hinduist,or a jew . On that day,we would all wear identical dresses We would all be the significant other ,because He has died, and He has died for all. Jesus died for Peter,John and Judah for Lazarus and Maria Magdalene, Jesus died for me , He has died for you ,for him ,for her,and even for them. He gave up till the last drop of blood and painful cry for each and every name engraved upon our Father's palm. He was born to die,but its not his death that we celebrate , We celebrate His life ,because we believe in life We celebrate His forgivness ,because We experienced the beauty of forgivness ,the happiness ,the return of blissful joy. and , We celebrate the ever present love Because it is the gift of love that He bestowed on us Jesus was born to die , but He was born to rise Upon death He has risen , through His death We survived Because of Him , in the darkness ,in the labyrinth of our night There will always,always be the little flicker of a candle that fills our hearts with hope ,and warming light.


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015


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The True Knight

POTD 9th April 2018

Synopsis -
A story of selflessness without jealousy or rancor that is often evident through the ages in all walks of life, even in modern times. 

She’s a queen who sees her lover for himself only and does not abide in the narrow minded perception of social status trappings. 

Her knight, who is absolutely in love with her, stays true to the knightly code of chivalry and avowed to show gallantry to women beyond rules of combat. Understanding the damaging effect of scandals, he is committed to watch and protect his Lady against prying jealous eyes. 

I have differentiated the social status of the time and accentuated emotions with different textured type of fabrics. (See significance at the end of the poem)

I Trust you like the video music clip, in which the scenes aptly portray the theme of my poem.

Spinnerets of silk reach to forbidden fruit
Nights hush vanquished by a heart that beats 
Variance in status brocade curtains drawn 
Regardless of imperilled shame - doubt retreats

Once ‘neath the light of a calico moon
His heart lay in wait to be retrieved
Beside the old pump in crumbling stone
A pauper in cotton - a Prince she perceived

A gasp suppressed when eyes first met In delirium of what elation lay ahead What magic brewed here? What loom spun this hessian thread? Of a love-tale wrought with joy and dread
A unity not forged in Heaven A scanty few - or none - would understand Venetian lace betwixt a gracious Queen And her yearning for a humble stable hand Opening damask casement as he approaches Anticipation of nights in secret seclusion Let no prying eyes spoil this tryst Lest reality fade into a muslin illusion Let her yearning for velvet touches Impassioned embrace and moist sweet lips Loomed in the linen threads of romance And that of her stable lover’s lingering kiss Let him turn to forbidden zones To be explored as he eagerly hones A forge of love bidding invitation In expectant and musical syncopation Dutifully her swordsman keeps vigil from afar His love for her gleams like the evening star Seasons endured in fur and chain-mail sheen Blood he would draw to protect his queen A skilful sword at ready in an expectant hand Sadly his love she would not understand Coated sheathed loyalty is all she sees Part of a lovers tryst - no favours - his heart to ease
An armour clad Knight forged of steel and leather Surviving the odds his love endures forever
Significance of the various fabrics symbolized in the poem: Silk I’ve used this to show her royalty status. Luxurious and costly, silk was used only by the wealthiest of classes and the Church Brocade This fabric to emphasise her indifference to the social status of their relationship, by blocking out animosity from the primitive thoughts of envious society. Calico Colour of the moon on the night she first laid eyes on him Cotton - Favored on days of yore by the working class and domestic staff since antiquity. Hemp and Hessian Emphasizing the strength of their relationship, against all odds and accentuates the relationship between the working class and royalty of the middle ages Venetian Lace Again a luxury favoured by the aristocrats. The flexible of lace and of the lace-making arts and depicts her flexibility. Damask A rare and expensive fabric of the era, adorns her wall depicting the opulence of her status Muslin Quite a transparent fabric and as such I’ve used this to refer to as ‘a see through illusion’ which is made possible by the loyalty of her knight Linen This fabric emphasises the strength and resilience of their love for each other. It was a fine linen used for veils, wimples undergarments and apparel of ladies. Velvet No explanation needed to amplify its connection to love and heightened sensuality through its use. Fur The lining of his armour used in his day, underlines the warmness of his heart. Leather Characteristic of strength, durability and dependability to highlight the Knight’s quality. POTD 9th April 2018


Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2018


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A Glimpse

guilty as charged i stole it tall every consonant every vowel every word every sentence plagiarized the ocean in its unique shades of blues and greens combined and blended to create its very own colour a tint i call ocean brave covered in water topped off in water surrounded by water immersed in water stunning the ocean plagiarized the beach in unique shades of beiges and whites combined and blended to create a brand new fabric they call it whiskey white a trillion grains parts unknown the total sum of all unified to act as one the beach plagiarized the cloud in unique shades of this and that combined and blended to create mystery spin the wheel if you wish a blank pallet- blush a perfectly complex complexion- luminous coloured in soft and titillating to the touch- pigment oh the touch- intense light as air immaculate the cloud plagiarized the living in unique shades of everything combined and blended to create a cornucopia of finishes, stains combined and blended the world of the living with all its bells and whistles the unmitigated the undisputed overall the living plagiarized guilty as charged i stole it all every consonant every vowel every word every sentence everything i see i feel i invent i write everything plagiarized from just a glimpse of you i am wonderfully, joyfully sick in love and you are everything i do guilty as charged all of it plagiarized
With Lots Of Love Always, armand


Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2017


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FORGIVE AND FORGET

I asked you what I have done wrong But there is no response - just a stony silence No words can convey my guilt, my inner sadness This will be my last goodbye My final letter to you my love Tears flow down my ashen face Tears of sadness, tears of regret Drip Drip Drip Drip Tears fall on the paper as I write They mingle with the damp blue ink The inky water leaches into the paper Its colour starts to bleed and spread Until it fades into nothingness I am empty, devoid of emotion I can say no more Forgive me for being me Forgive me for caring Forgive me for loving you Goodbye forever 02~15~15


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015


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The Scent Of Your Soul

The scent of your soul a caramalized breeze of fruit odours reverbrating softly through my memory Throwing me right back in ninth grade where we sat side by side Your right arm reaching slightly for my back Your name resonates gently with my spirit as thoughts of you dwell in my mind Carrying me back to the shade of purple grape orchids in evergreen woods Our first kiss perched upon last autumn's twig still lingers in early morn's bone-china cup wafting its pungent aroma of dark roast coffee beans and so the smell of rubber tyres against the wind Such revoked moments of unknown danger and defiant fun Other moments of beauty and snow angels Of freedom and moonlights,sunrise and life I can still recall the days,months,and years till our footprints marked seperate paths Ah,those days,those last hours,How can I forget? Sweet as frosty vanilla and chocolate chips of an ice-cream parlour Melting as spongy marshmallows and honey syrup Fresh as the colour of every new dream which haunts me llike an alluring glance of almond-shaped eyes This afternoon,like other afternoons I walk to the library which knows the musky sweat of your palm upon my own That fragrance 's gone now,all that is left is the fading perfume of forgotten petals between old books and dust No one here except my silence ,and a rotten sliced apple vacuum packed,lacking its cinnamon and even its spice. Back home the mildewed strings of a guitar await my fingertips to play once more upon the worn out chords of my vacant heart What will I play,what will I sing,a song which isn't ours? Fermented wine I poured into a glass Yearning to taste its purple grape for what it was before all it was turned out bitter,acidic and sour I wondered about where you might be,distant or not as far Listening to my voice on once upon a record player Or Wishing on a star ?
A repost (written : 10/15/2014


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015


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Recalling Her

It is thirty six years ago, and I am with her in the garden,
where July is a picnic of egg sandwiches, cress-stippled,
fuzzy-downed peaches, yellow-tangy lemonade.
Her fingers have the delicacy of dancers
as she deftly mixes paint on a palette blue as the sky -
blobs of acrylics bright as sweet shop candies.

Summer is a sizzling colour wheel, spinning in its heat hues -
cadmium orange, pyrrole red, gold ochre -
those fever-flames that blaze across her page.

My small world is warmed by the sun in her smile.

Russian vine stitches a delicate doily over the shed roof.
The heat-glazed garden shimmers and buzzes.
There is a twilight world under sweet clusterings of lilacs:
a cool shock of shade, pendulous-legged black flies
hovering in the murky mauve.
China white stars of jasmine light my way.
Please keep me close. Let me stay.

*

It is twenty six years ago, a morning of mourning,
and the notes of the dead bells toll
as, mist-muffled, they roll
through November's sleet streets.

I close my eyes and the sun in her smile parts the clouds.

Sober-suited people crush and cluster in pews;
row upon row of perylene black, winter-pale faces titanium white.
Stained glass windows filter and warm the ash-grey light
until her coffin is a vibrant palette of rainbows.

There are stories - lots of stories - anecdotes,
a crimson-backed journal she wrote,
a painting she painted, coffin-propped,
a poetry reading - one of her own -
Tapestry is a wondrous thing, in it the lovely colours sing...

Creamed rice-colour roses heap sweet
on her stone - a slate plate serving up a dead name -
and carnations splash cadmium scarlet
like blood throbbing from the gash of grief's raw wound.

*

It is now, and I am alone, taking a short cut home
through evening's rich palette.
Elegiac elms shed viridian tears
and the sky is a burnt sienna explosion.
October's umber seeps into November's sepia tones.

My mind is coloured with her and then.
I hold a small cameo box that held
the colourful spill of her pills: kaleidoscope planets
orbiting my loneliness, spinning off into nothingness...

Dark figures fill the park: silhouettes, shadows
following me home; spirits stepped from her portraits,
faces pushed down into coat collars, crinkled with frowns.

Paint-pinned people in their primaries and pastels,
on canvas, under glass; stopped heartbeats of the past.
Trapped moments on paper and boards.

I close my eyes and see the sun in her smile,
recall how, since her passing, life has become a free fall,
a parapet leap without parachute.

And the smudged charcoals of memory
are beginning to blur, fading like her watercolours...




in memory of my grandmother

2nd place in contest 'Anything Goes', date judged 4/12/2014
date written 11/3/2013


Copyright © Charlotte Jade Puddifoot | Year Posted 2013


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Isle of Bast

Memories of the North Sea
sift in like sand kernels 
on a fast, frigid tide:
events that transpired outside 
the confines of rhyme,
unfolding exactly 
as they were meant to.

Never before had I seen
so many shades of gray;
the overcast, monochromatic splendor
was awe-inspiring,
instead of being bleak and bleary.
___

The smell of salt and seaweed
awakes something dormant and eternal,
deep within me. 
I have a surging desire 
to flush stagnancy from my blood—

salty blood and water
come together in a communion
of distant relations and movements.

Beside me, a flash of bright red 
digs in the sand; my child 
is wearing the only vibrant colour 
to be seen for many kilometres.
The colour matches her 
enthusiasm and energy, 
as she moves from one spot to the next
like a dancing flame;
reflected, a fire glows from my eyes.

Unknowingly, I had dressed
in the same colours of the sky and sea,
blending into the scenery
like a chameleon:
an illusion thicker than the clouds;
an illusion of stone
for me to melt and reinvent
at the spinning speed of thought.

I watch my daughter
drink the seascape with a smile of wonder;
it's her first time visiting an ocean.
With our pants rolled up to the knee,
we wade through waves,
and collect stones and shells.
She knows the chameleon
who walks alongside her in the frothy surf.

Observing seabirds cover the steep cliffs
of the island located further out,
in a blanket of black and white feathers,
I wonder if people onshore
only see a solitary dash of red out here,
or if the chameleon 
is more noticeable than I had thought.



2012 North Sea Remix
December 17th, 2012






.


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012


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Ode To The Hydrangea

ODE TO THE HYDRANGEA

Misunderstood little Mophead,
They call her ‘Changing Rose’,
Her colour comes from the soil
And the acidity in which she grows.

Chorus:	Water in her name,
		Water in her veins.
		Blue Azorean stranger,
		Nothing rhymes with Hydrangea.

Graceful in the half-sun,
She turns pink with added lime.
At home in the Himalayas,
Found globally over time.

		Water in her name,
		Water in her veins.
		Blue Azorean stranger,
		Nothing rhymes with Hydrangea.

Not a flower but a shrub,
Grandiflora and Annabelle
Splash their petals radiant,
A most hardy perennial.

                Water in her name,
                Water in her veins.
                Blue Azorean stranger,
                Nothing rhymes with Hydrangea.



Copyright © Phil Capitano | Year Posted 2017


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The Scent Of Your Soul

The scent of your soul a caramelized breeze of fruit odours reverberating softly through my memory Throwing me right back into ninth grade where we sat side by side Your right arm reaching slightly for my back Your name resonates gently with my spirit as thoughts of you dwell in my mind Carrying me back to the shade of purple grape orchids in evergreen woods Our first kiss perched upon last autumn's twig still lingers in early morn's bone-china cup wafting its pungent aroma of dark roast coffee beans and so the smell of rubber tyres against the wind Such revoked moments of unknown danger and defiant fun Other moments,of beauty and snow angels Of freedom and moonlights,sunrise and life I can still recall the days,months,and years till our footprints marked separate paths Ah,those days,those last hours,How can I forget? Sweet as frosty vanilla and chocolate chips of an ice cream parlour Melting as spongy marshmallows and honey syrup Fresh as the colour of your soul, which haunts me like an alluring glance of almond-shaped eyes This afternoon , like other afternoons I walk to the library which knows the musky sweat of your palm upon my own That fragrance 's gone now.All that is left is the fading perfume of forgotten petals between old books and dust No one here except my silence,and a rotten sliced apple vacuum packed ,lacking its cinnamon and even its spice. Back home,the mildewed strings of a guitar await my fingertips to play once more upon the worn out chords of my heart What will I play,what will I sing ,a song which isn't ours ? Fermented wine I poured into my glass Yearning to taste its purple grape for what it was before all it was turned bitter,acidic and sour I wondered about where you might be ,distant or not as far Listening to my voice on once upon a record player Wishing on a star ?
Not for the contest But thanks for the inspiration Contest name-The Scent Of Your Soul


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014


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Shattering Rose Glasses

Uncomplicated me
I thought I was coloured blind
free thinking and kind
with an evolved mind
Loving and accepting 
of the ones I find

Yet my blindness 
Is that of privilege
I'm just a visitor
in the Global village
From my narrow thin mind
there is too much spillage

Although so many
are forced from their homes
My life seems carefree 
I am deaf to the groans
Brown women wearing veils
that can't protect them from stones

I live in a white washed place
No "Freedom Marches"
for men of a different race
Yet, if I look back and trace
there are darker stories to face
We all took part in shameful things
Yes, we share in the disgrace.

Highways of tears
Rivers of shame
There's always 
someone else to blame
Residential schools
Each child got a new name
They were forced to forget
the place from where they came

Prisons filled
with black and red skinned men
They can't forget
this now or that then
Promises and promises
but who how and when
Or will their children
have to live it all over again

So yes
No longer colour blind
With the opening of my mind
I let colour seep in
Starting somewhere different
today I  begin
Because I know
it shouldn't be
just the privileged who win!

For SKAT's premiere contest.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016


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ONE FOR ALL

God is all colours
And He is no colour,
For He lives in the black
And He lives in the white.
He lives in the mixed,red
Olive, brown and yellow,
For He lives in the heart
Where colours out of sight.

God is all creeds
And he is no creed.
He lives in the Muslim
And He lives in the Jew.
He's there in the Hindu,
The Christian, the Buddhist.
In all true believers
And the doubters too-

So why all this predjudice
Because of colour?
Why all this thinking 
There's a chosen race?
Why are we fighting 
In the name of religion?
When surely God wears 
Every human face.

Man has differences
Man has opinions.
That is the way 
The human race is run.
God is only ONE GOD
However we see him.
He's one for all,
So that all can be ONE. 


Copyright © SYLVIA Coulstock | Year Posted 2010


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Stars Never Forget Our Dreams

I've dreamt dreams in my life till you forgotten who I am the smooth curves of my lips and roses in my hair. You've dreamt dreams in your life till I forgotten who you are the dimple of your smile and velvets of your heart. But stars never forget our dreams Stars never forgot your wet fingertips writing proposals on the sand Nor those kisses treaded softly as you lifted up my hand. So if the colour of the night gets dark and dusty blue If you ever think of me If I ever think of you Just close your eyes Remember ,there's the splendour of a star Still shows me where you are Remember,there's the splendour of a star Still shows you where I am It shows eternal Heartbeats Of a woman and a man.
Because Stars never forget our dreams...


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2017


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The red wheelbarrow

The old red wheelbarrow is still standing there
right next to my Grandfather’s fixed rocking chair.
Though neither has moved in a good many years
their presence revives former  laughter and tears.

As children, my Grandfather placed us inside
the bright red wheelbarrow and off we would ride.
Down rough country tracks to the orchard we’d go
returning with plentiful apples in tow.

I once asked my Grandfather why it was red,
‘That was your Gran's favourite colour’ he said.
And red were the roses he laid by the side
of the grave where he mourned for his beautiful bride.

When Grandfather died, I just hadn't the heart
to cast on the scrap heap his rusty red cart.
And so by his rocking chair it shall remain
to take me on journeys down memory lane.




06/08/18

For Your Poetry Journal 	Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings


Copyright © Wendy Watson | Year Posted 2018


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Pondering On Our Love

We sat for hours under the flame tree,
In silence we pondered life with glee.
She wished for a breeze sitting at the quay,
I yearned for mountains and some lovely ski.
Variety is spice that’s our loving key.

The fern-like leaves fluttered in the breeze,
One long passionate kiss was enough to appease.
Her hands I squeezed to make her feel at ease.
Soon we decided for afternoon teas
And sandwiches layered with favourite cheese.

Soon dusk was falling and it threatened snow,
Even the birds were seen flying very low,
Clouds rushed in, row over row.
To leave such peace was rather a blow,
Agreed to spend the night in a nearby chateau.

From our window we relished the valley in colour.
Lawns crisscrossed with borders all in flower.
Fortunately it did not snow but it did shower
In the semi twilight all seemed such a glistening bower;
Finally sleep beckoned, it was too late an hour.


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2018


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SPRING

Stunning spring is my favourite season She swirls her skirts and drapes the garden in her finest clothes Dressing the naked winter trees and bushes with bright brilliant foliage Spring showers us with confetti of pink cherry blossom petals in the warm breeze Gently opening the eyes of the snowdrops, crocuses and daffodils They crane their necks from the melting snow and smile sweetly Creating colour and scent in our glorious gardens Written by Jan Allison 01-02-15


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015


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September

Trees reach like glowing embers
to singe the autumn skies.
Leaves burst with blinding colour
like sparks that spin and rise
Then a breath of weightless fog
moves across the silent lake
where trails of molten clouds
fill the sunset's smoky wake.
The harvest moon emerges
like a second burning sun
to fill the sky with button-stars
that morning pulls undone. 
Sunlight floods the gardens
to melt the morning dew.
This is where my heart resides
since September gave me you.


Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2015


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Forbidden Fruit

Forbidden fruit is sweetest, or that’s what they all say
So I thought I’d give it a try and went for some today
I didn’t know just what to choose something firm and hard or what
So I thought I’d take a sample of everything they’d got.

There was some really hard ones, some were ripe and very sweet
But I chose one in the middle and it looked good enough to eat
I caressed it very gently and waited for it to please
I nearly didn’t go through with it, I was really gonna tease.

My taste buds are not set for sweet they prefer something more savoury
But no I stuck to my guns but I want no awards for bravery
I took one that looked just right, its rich colour tempted me to bite
But have you ever bitten a persimmon, that isn’t really ripe?

It sucks the moisture out of your mouth and covers you teeth in wool
Believe me you just try it; I am not giving you any bull.
Now for those that thought the fruit, would be some other man
Maybe that’s on my ‘to do’ list, before I kick the can……….LOL

Shame on you all, for all your naughty thoughts
Especially for those of you, that can’t keep it in their shorts
To all those that do struggle, to keep the forbidden fruit at bay
Just remember the persimmon and you will never rue the day.
© ~GG~ 4/12/2012



Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012


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A Getaway To Ancient Venice

I can still recall the look upon His face Each thought still makes me go to that enchanting place The vernal air was floral sweet and honey breezed We roamed along Venice's zigzagged lanes and cobbled streets On our secret rendezvous,We hugged affectionately under pastel gothic galleries Greeted by the aromatic smell of freshly brewed roast coffee beans Strolling along the pigeon-filled piazza San Marco We wandered hand in hand,in the serenissima ancient floating land Street musicians played their flutes.as We sat on a roof-top wooden terrace We glanced at merchants sell hand-blown murano glass by the picturesque Doge's palace We ate a snack , then walked away towards the old opera house which now has risen from its ashes. We sauntered forward through little alleys from where He bought me ,a gold painted venetian mask To my surprise ,He had another gift,a wrapped up scarlet sheer laced basque I peered at him through my dark lashes,He raised his left brow and flashed a smile Expressed his charm in playful ways,in a flirtatious endearing style. Boarded at last on a black gondola,cruised the lagoon and the canals A few light kisses,a few soft brushes,waiting the bell's toll whilst in his arms There we lay in waiting beneath the bridge of sighs We sealed our kiss and promised lips,to the harmonic sound of chimes He leaned on me,I welcomed Him,our spirits been entwined Above,the sky has changed its colour,I watched the sun set in his eyes All I am,I gave to him,my enduring heart- His sacred shrine All that He is He gave to me in once upon a time
Not for the contest,but thanks for the 'Lovemaking in an ancient place contest,inspiration'. This post is inspired by Ancient Venice and the tale of 'The Bridge Of Sighs' The tale goes-If you kiss your loved one with the bell's toll of St,Mark's Basilica, at sunset,beneath the bridge of sighs,the couple seals their love forever. There is another tale to it,a sad one,but preferred to share the happy one : )


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014


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An Evening Primrose In Your Sleep

I wanna be the mild fragrance of an evening primrose gentle and sweet beneath your sheet Cluster of petals which bloom pink blossoms to wither softly into your sleep Tell me... What is the colour of your night ? Do you need me by your side? Let your window slightly open Call the wind to breeze me in Let your candle slowly burning Feel me swaying deep within Tell me... What is the colour of your night? Do you need me by your side? Don't be lonesome Don't feel blue I will always come to you Perfumed scent wafting your way till stars birth first dew of day And when the sun sets once again its last flame upon the stream I slip slowly 'neath your pillowcase Evening primrose in your dream


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014