Best Colour In Poems
“Next Chapter”
There will always be a next chapter
Written or not, this is of no matter
What matters is the colour forming in your world
Black is not a colour, it dominates, shades and swallows other colours up,
It exists to be blended with White, a vacant aberration one can easily fill in and colour over
What one is looking for is the colour in the spectrum, not yet found
To be newly created with all available emotions to hand and heart and mind
There will always be a next chapter
Written or not, this is of no matter
What matters is the colour forming in your world
Beginning
End? there never is an end
What matters is the colour forming in your world
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 March)
A brand new car is what I love,
Love the body, the new car smell,
So to local luxury garage I drove,
that’s where I met lovely Shantelle!
Bright blue was the colour in mind,
A four wheel drive good for snow,
For my golf kit, lot of space behind,
A shapely front, as men will know!
I was shown to a desk at the rear,
Sitting in her chair was Shantelle,
Divine looks, heart stopping stare,
Like a Sharon Stone, behind a Dell!
What transpired? I can’t remember!
Who spoke and if anything was said?
My mind stoned my legs were timber,
Was I dreaming? Was I still in bed?
Later in the open, to show me the car,
She walked like she was on catwalk,
Blue skin tights kept my mouth ajar,
Her pretty smile was her sales talk!
The blue she wore, was blue I love,
every breath I took was her perfume,
She was so close, when I test drove,
my eyes on her, eyes focus and zoom!
The deal was done, the car was sold,
Shantelle I loved, not the four by four!
Ignored the price, paid what I was told,
Borrowed from a bank, to settle score!
Stone by stone every necklace grows,
Drop by drop, love and ocean soar,
Shantelle I wed, with marriage vows,
Now we are four, in our four by four!
N/A 27/02/2020
Dated 18/02/2020
Premier poetry contest Shantelle
Sponsor Julia Ward
Entered for John Hamilton N-A contest
12/Jan/2021
You are an enigma,
only found hidden under leaves.
A colour in the rainbow still unseen.
Fate has formed your mind into a revolving door,
without pressing the buttons,
it remains like dead seeds,
so I became your gardener to help you blossom -
perceiving you will flourish into the rarest rose.
Only you can soothe me from your thorns.
You are a sleeping volcano, sometimes senseless,
irritated by every polish to regain consciousness.
When embers ignite within your enraged eyes,
fragile flames spiral into bitter bonfires -
visible from scorching scars on my soul.
I always wonder
is this the last time I adorn my armour,
as I follow you into your internal inferno,
hoping your fulvous frenzies
are temporary like the last star.
You are a master in your art,
but I'm an alchemist with your secret ingredients,
so I tug your strings in reverse,
but never leave you dangling in a
disorderly drunkard manner,
because you are a unique, untouched gem.
Words are vortex to your heart,
so I summon silence to keep you on the edge,
but before you fall, I'm there to catch you.
You insist it's ebony, when it's ivory,
so I tell you to go left, knowing you will go right
and when you say you cannot write,
I Whisper secrets to the wind,
aware they'll carry to you like a typhoon.
As you vent, your metaphors manifest the
honesty behind the poison in your veins.
Suppressed emotions become poetry.
When you imply, I do not feel
and you are hellbent to hurt,
your wrath leaves me hanging like a punch bag,
yet I never aim back, knowing calmness heals.
I can tell you it's the final spring,
or I've laid down my shield and sword,
but you are unable to halt the slaughter,
until the sour aftertaste becomes pleasant,
so I place sugar cubes, slowly on your tongue.
I was born to take the stones out of your heart.
In this cognitive warfare of intellect and logic,
where you push and I pull,
there is only one winner, no sinner,
as in your quest to prove me wrong,
you succeed and that my love is
reverse psychology.
I wish
I could into a deep blue sea dive
Have the flowing flood of tears subside
Let my smile surface and revive
And my woes would ever cease to survive..
I wish
I could the highest of mountains mount
And from its very summit
I would see with no doubt
How tiny my tribulations and vain to wane about..
I wish
I could widely fly
Reach the heart of the sky
And how light I am I would realise
Having dropped the heaviest of burdens so far..
I wish
I could on a solid land land
And feel the strength of the path I tread
Be sure not to stumble
When I raise high my head..
I wish
I could vanish into darkness
With a void I would merge
Attain a leading light
And with serenity I would converge..
I wish
I could follow an inner time to rise
Bright, full of energy and willing to shine
Despite the weights of dark nights
Seek the Light of God, bow to the Sublime and end my fights
I wish
I could not just bathe but sink
In a so pigmented thick ink
Draw and colour in a wondrous beauty
Paintings and portraits with my poetry..
A curious cocktail of odours greets us
as we move in from playground
to corridor, to cloakroom, to classroom.
Beeswax fragrance: freshly buffed parquet.
Brasso smell: base metal turned to gold.
Jeyes Fluid: vapour killing vile germs.
Such alchemy starts our day with clean slate.
Playground cacophony left behind.
Now each sound has discipline, has purpose.
First bell: registration shall begin.
Next bell: proceed to assembly hall.
Lasses stand on round marks; lads on square marks.
Regular rows, parallel precision.
Stand to attention. Uniform inspection.
At ease. Handshakes and smiles. Peace be with you.
Silence pervades as we ponder our sins.
With ramrod fingers Miss thumps on the keys.
Staccato. Left. Right.
'Ride on Ride on in Majesty'.
A short sermon on compassion is served.
Then, school notices: soccer successes
and the listing of scallywags destined
for public thrashing at high noon next day.
Third bell: learning shall begin.
RI lesson. St Paul's Journey yet again.
In silence we colour in his route map.
With crayons on auto-pilot we day dream.
Our apostle arrives in Rome by morning break.
Dark clouded thoughts are dashing round in my head
Should I end it all – would I be better off dead
The tablets helped for a little while
On good days I could even raise a smile
Depression looms over me like an angry black cloud
Some days all I do is scream and cry out loud
If I ended it all would anyone cry
Do they really care if I live or die
I’ve tried to end my life once before
I was found me helpless on the kitchen floor
They kept me in hospital my life was on the brink
They gave me some treatment and got me a shrink
But no matter what they do or say
My depression it is here to stay
Oh how I crave for normality
To have a job, even raise a family
But pill popping and black thoughts are all I know
Things from my past haunt me from so many years ago
There is no colour in my life its all just black and white
Shall I give in to depression and give up this earthly fight
Jan Allison
13th March 2014
Written for an on-line competition – NOT from personal experience.
~ please see my notes above about this poem~
I can feel my blood,
Gushing through my veins,
I have two beating hearts,
One to lose and one that pounds,
At the door of my skin,
A caged vulture in the jungle of my ribs,
For it wants to be lost,
With a jar of ashes addressed to the ones I love.
I can feel its emulsion in my blood,
A pellet of germanium in an abyss of red,The burst of colour in my wrist reminds me of death,
And how the roles reverse in circumstance,
A blush of pink on my eyelid,
A blush of pink on the periphery of my jaw,
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive
Guess I’ll play a song, I’ve heard before.
But it beckons me so,
The thin films of glass against my wrist,
Cold fingers running over jagged edges,
And I sip clean, every blunder I make,
Guess I’ll kiss my wrists pale again,
I see the crevices of my mind unfold,
I can see a face, a body to hold,
I choke on blunders, I choke alone.
My wardrobe has skeletons with sardonic smiles,
There’s crosses on the glass beneath my feet,
There’s crosses in my throat,
I’m running down the nape of my bones,
And like the phoenix once arose,
I’ll hear my voice at the bells when the church door swings,
My consciousness is an ocean, my awarness is a wave,
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive
In the game of life, there are no set
players in our team,
Sometimes someone joins, and
sometimes someone leaves,
Each player plays a part in fulfilling
our needs, wants and dreams,
To me, this is how it seems.
Through trials and fears, we continue,
in life’s run,
And in our triumphs, we forget the tears
and pain and celebrate the victory,
having fun,
Each voice singing together, each word
turns into a sweet song,
Together in unity, giving a sense that
we belong.
In the Spirit of Team, there’s togetherness.
So, raise a toast to all those who
were and are still on our side,
With Faith’s gentle hand,
In the Spirit of Team, let’s continue to
grow and explore the land,
Together like the flowers we will bloom,
Each displaying our uniqueness,
beauty and colour in the garden
of the Living.
Like in the multicoloured garden of the
blooms, there’s beauty.
In the multicoloured garden of the Living,
there’s Beauty too.
by Zyrool
Rising sun so soft,tender
like your forehead's red bindi
splashes colour in my mind
another new dawn.
=========000==========
Contest name--Red Sun
Date--- 24th June 2013
Bindi--A bindi ( Sanskrit bindu, meaning "a drop, small particle, dot"), or a pottu/bottu (in Tamil, Telugu, and Malayalam) is a forehead decoration worn in South Asia (particularly India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, Sri Lanka and Mauritius) [1] and Southeast Asia. Traditionally it is a bright dot of red color applied in the center of the forehead close to the eyebrows, but it can also consist of a sign or piece of jewelry worn at this location.
Ambitious Amaryllis arrive soon,
Bloodroots beauty appears to bloom.
Colourful Camellias grow in shade,
Daffodils dance in garden parade.
English-daisies pretend as innocent,
Freesia flowers friendly and fragrant.
Gleeful is the glamorous Geranium,
Hyacinths cling in cluster they come.
In too many shades Irises are seen,
Jovial and joyous are the Jasmine.
Kind are the keen Kangaroo paws,
Lamb's ear some attention it draws.
Maltese Cross active and anxious,
Naive and nervous are the Narcissus.
Orchids are obedient with open-eyes,
Pampered Pansies, peep in small size.
Quince flower is bright orange-red,
Rockrose arrive as shrub and spread.
Stylish smile surrounds Sweet pea,
Trillium flower has petals only three.
Umbrella Magnolia shines like star,
Virginia bluebells stunning they are.
Wallflowers stay silent and are shy,
Xyris watches with her yellow eye.
Yarrow are tiny tightly together,
Zestful is Zephyr in lovely weather.
Nature's colour in flowers is seen,
Among all seasons Spring is queen.
April 18, 2016.
Spring Flowers - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
New or Old 5 - Poetry Contest
"The Other Ocean'
She’s on the other side
On another Ocean
The colour in the light
Hides the burning
fire in her eyes
She’s slowly falling into line
Clock keeping time
Days bleed into empty pages
failing Blank Verse Rhyme
Sugar from her lips
her song becomes
her sweetest crime
On another Ocean
She sings her story
with such addiction
such syrupy devotion
no idle victory
just pure
innocent emotion
Her loneliness cries
Deepest Bluest TRUTH
radical,
hot coal commotion
King Marlin
jumps high
in his other Ocean
Puts down his sword
he’s swimming somewhere
out of time with
other hearts imploding
white horses capped frozen
on another ocean
Her heart’s cut
out of time
needs metronome
with his blue reprise song
his opus, takes this,
her Love’s bleeding opium
his immolation
snow falling
on another Ocean
someone waiting for you
in your boat
on another Ocean
The morning
arrives too soon
on another Ocean
lying in her boat
a distant wave
she is waving
she is drowning
On another Ocean
Rocking boat
on another ocean
Runs her fingers
in her ocean
dreaming she’s
in your Ocean
She’s on the other side
In another Ocean
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018, Jan / Lyrics)
1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f77SKdyn-1Y
2. José González - Veneer
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v80KTAmltC0
Blue is the colour, blue is the period, blue is the mood
As Pablo's mind sunk, on the meaning of life he did brood.
The death by his own hand, of a friend that was close
Left Pablo the poor artist quite depressed and morose.
His feelings from deep down within his soul
Could only be expressed by his brush, his goal.
To show how he hurt and affected was he
He painted the guitarist, the one that could not see.
A blind beggar stooped and cold, a guitar in his hands
Not strumming just there, muted background looking bland
Muted colours of blue that makes one feel so cold
Of the half staved, freezing guitarist, that looks terribly old.
The oil tends to blend on the panel lacking some colour
To express his heart weary soul, his colours ever duller
The guitarist is stretched, elongated, looks almost dead
All the feeling of Picasso in his life, this picture said.
Look at me, I am starved of love money and bread
No colour in my life, perhaps I am better off with the dead.
A reflection on the times on society way back then
The hopeless, the wretched, Pablo caught with his pen.
On the bland background of blue, a guitar painted dull brown
The guitar in his hands, the player blind with a sad frown
Was he a symbol that the blind have inner vision yet can see
The dejection, the poverty, the misery of times lost on you and me.
His period of blue lasted three long years before it was then spent
He changed his style with his moods as his emotions were pent
A poor artist who suffered with his moods as we all can do
He expressed them with pen and brush, much the same as me and you.
© 23/01/2013
Contest Entry.
The Old Guitarist By Pablo Picasso
Painted by East wind
Cascades of colour in air
Tall trees are now bare
Looking down on flown offspring
Proud of what they have created
Gal I wrote your name inside my heart
It sounds every letter when each beat starts
There’s no need for me to call out your name
You can tell from my eyes this heart won’t change
You’re the smile in my mind
The whisper in my ears
The colour in my soul
And the love in my tears
I’ll never change this happiness I found
My blood flows thick like an emotional cloud
Because there’s a beautiful song in my heart
It’s been playing these strings right from the start
You’re the smile in my mind
The whisper in my ears
The colour in my soul
And the love in my tears
It’s a magical tune of sweet bitter love
Keeps playing and playing as the sun shines above
This bond between us will never be broken
As this space in my heart has been overtaken
Today my heart glowed a thousand lights
Pumped love around brighter than bright
My soul whispered you know I love you
My eyes full of smiles as I dreamed of you
You’re the smile in my mind
The whisper in my ears
The colour in my soul
And the love in my tears
And I can’t control this brewing storm
This fires burning from beyond the dawn
With passion it melts all my tension away
And I find new strength for a brand new day
You’re the smile in my mind
The whisper in my ears
The colour in my soul
And the love in my tears
Fictional
© Copyright KC.Leake
23rd September 2015
All Rights Reserved
Took me quite some time to work out love
a souls recognition of each others bond
Holding close warm thoughts
sailing into the horizon inside dreams
Forever jumping over the moon
always floating together in space
Dancing with the spirits of light
without touch embracing grace
a harp flows music plays
Sweet wings unfolding magically
holding the inside breathless
The sweet song of you're voice
echoes all over four chambers
Singing birds all of them
songbirds together music in love
One glorious choir enchants magic
with lots of colour in a rainbow
Yeah the very first kiss
it seals the deal with my soul
Such innocence takes over
really childlike
so rare and very beautiful
one gem princess cut
without fault perfect
Wonderful dreams fill up in the ocean
rising salted waves
unfurling gallops
Kissing the lips of happiness
holding hands upon golden sands
walking beside you
Almost weightless
floating in your air
on a celestial breeze of deep beauty