Best Cyan Poems
My eyes cry for
fuschia glimmer on
indigo waves again,
but all I see are
haunting hues
of black sequin
glittered epitaphs;
reflections of hollow
clouds enveloping cold air;
building tension
within my heavy heart.
I am surfing alone,
watching the life
of iron-grey cotton bows
swerve in
cashmere cadence,
whilst wiping away
smudged remnants
of shallow tears,
wishing that I could
obscure pain
with poetic phrases,
inked in cyan liquid,
as I weave charismatic
colors of sunrise,
perfumed with
redolence of roses,
to feel the heat,
as poetry spills
potions of sagacious
thoughts onto the saline
canvas of stolen
sapphire dreams.
But there in the
labyrinth of
an ice-green lagoon,
I’ve built a castle
beneath pellucid
salt waters,
a warm home where
every mysterious
metaphor written
for the honey-winged moon
turns into
crystal clear rhymes,
sewn from a blistering
poem of the ocean,
resting within a
glistening glass bottle,
awaiting to be
read and spoken.
So, today I’ll swim through
aesthetic torrents of torment,
Listen to the rhythmic
tunes of raging tides
within trembling silence,
as elements of truth
eventually resurface
from the depths
of turquoise topaz,
to set on the
porcelain horizon
where shorelines
shimmer from mulberry
shells and tantalizing
tulips twirling
beneath twinkling twilight,
for faith resides in the
arms of starry skies.
Someday, you’ll see past
the crimson curtain
of faux carnations
that clipped these
paper wings into
shapes of broken lines.
Glacial hills rise elevating fervid sights
Mesmerizing desires adorned turquoise blue
Arousing cobalt passions in sapphire heights
Floating cotton balls on melting cyan hue.
Above your scenic view gloats the sunlit sky
Lifting eager vibes upon hearing my sigh
Urging the frozen glaciers to woo romance
Embracing zealous emotions held in trance.
October 18, 2018
Rhyme: abab ccdd. Eight lines, 11 syllables each
Placed 3rd:Mid March 2019 contest by Brian Strand
Written: December 16, 2023
_____________________________________
I sneak glance at veiled blue.
as swank stars start to shine,
Sleeping, I sensed your love.
as warmth weaves through the heart,
Feeling the night above
I sneak glance at veiled blue.
through days that caught the moon,
with the whim that soon grasps
those who were backing me,
lasting the same long clasp
I sneak glance at veiled blue.
then climb the heights of sky.
zest the bright stars that shine.
Through the twilight impulse.
glimpse that my soul is thine.
I sneak glance at veiled blue.
Oh, divine timeless throne.
Your love has embraced us.
through my path shone a blaze.
freed and borne with life fuss.
He
has certainly
perfected the art
of being a smart a** -
a trait that swims like a tadpole
in his father’s gene pool
and nurtured by that very nature..
his tongue swells with sarcasm
his mouth just can’t contain
overflowing the once polite orifice
with a dam burst of wry words
wise cracks snapped! like a quick-witted whip with a grin
..that at once
both burns and tickles me
but
those eyes never change
from my cradle-arms
to a young man
they are still the cyan
of Monet’s Water Lilies
alive with electrical excitement
where voltage thrills the spectacle of imagination;
..as free to be as the aurora borealis shape-shifting
like a neon Norse god..
his horizon the runesmith scribing
upon the midnight vellum
a daydream designed by colors of musical notes..
this sensory rainbow a ribbon tied
to beyond the lip-lock of earth and sky..
a consciousness kissed with creative continuum
full of buoyant light yearning
to take flight across the cerebral airglow
seeking heights of deep space wonder -
a heart charged with cosmic currents
his soul akin to solar winds roaming the galaxies..
aha!
and t h e r e
is where I see myself in him -
yonder side of meager w a n t ...
his mind has wings
and n e e d s to fly!
..and I am wondering
how wonderful it would be
to be his age once again -
to string
my youthful wishes
upon a staid set of stars;
not the tragic magic of stardust
where a comet’s fireworks reigned
till one early morn
when meteor showers rained
my ill-fated dreams falling down -
O Libra
if only you had another chance to weigh
the arc of an outcome
….but then...
what would be of the golden mirror
I see my reflection in?
Susan Ashley
April 21, 2021
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: Open Poetry 3
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
Breathe my love, for I breathe for you
Thru cyan skies and oceans bathing blue
Speak my love, for I lonely listen for you
Vivacious vivid voices of a sensuous spew
Dream my love, for I only dream of you
Lavish green meadows in the morning dew
Sing my love, for I symphonically sing for you
With Angelic ambiance within heavens view
Cry my love, for I calamitously cry for you
Lachrymal layers of our binding brew
Dance my love, so I may dance with you
In melodic moonlight that I may woo
Love, my love, so I may love with you
Through echoing eternity just the two.
June.23.2017
Trust Me Baby This Is Love - Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose
When streams of paper roses,
bleed bitter fragrances,
evil mists of leaves slowly fall,
drifting along autumnal
breeze of yesterdays.
And i question
unseen dirt trapped
between sharpened thorns:
what if the sun,
at the end of your horizon,
seems brighter
than the skies in my mind?
What if days are a little longer
than the spoonful of quiet nights
you’ve fought?
Would you still paint
hollow bones of every skeleton
in your glass closet,
with black and white traces
flickering through
sociopathic holes and into
the windows of your rusted soul?
But what if, all this time,
you’ve been seeing silver linings
through ruby tinted glasses,
whilst steadying
your befogged sight with the core
of the devil’s unspoken mantras?
Maybe, the fault is in what flows
beneath your thick flesh,
that refuses to let redolent air
to rush in,
unless wicked winds
orchestrate songs of your
delusional manifestation.
So unlock the rails of
your iron heart,
follow me to the fields
of fluorescent fuchsias;
for I’ve always dared
to speak invisible visions
of my scarlet desires,
as I run with teal green wildflowers,
where pleasure spells my name
across lawns
in soft lavender dusks.
I fear no mourning monsters
dressed in golden feathers;
virtual vultures
speaking in demonic dialects,
waltzing with energy vampires.
They pretend to be angels
of cyan eden, oblivious
to the burning hell they reek,
exhaling scripted sentiments
of sanctimonious metaphors.
Whilst rhyming with a
cruel conscience,
seeking for meaningless endings.
They craft empty
expressions in
ghostly recitations,
revised to ruin
every starry sphere,
where achromatic ink-sanity,
remains reluctant to
follow me and my moon.
An alchemical raven's gray rhapsody awakens those cynical roses who
Breathe-in the ebony beams of blood-bathed sun, exhaling
Cacophonies that ricochet across these truthful horizons where,
Depressive roars embalm Lilith's lawns. Awash with smoked prairies and
Equinoctial secrecy, my neon lips swathe in life's witchy lies, for -
Flames of fury, lace every lead feather of the pewter crow, that feasts on beliefs.
Grieving charcoal stars swing like souvenirs of deceit when,
Heartbeats of hibiscus moon, shiver and shatter upon my schizophrenic
Ink, carving betrayals in asphalt ashes. "Am I a
Jewel of jinx, floating like a jet-black jasmine across
Kohl orchards?" - whispers time's wistful rebirth in the
Lachrymose lake of death, as conspiracies entwine in cyan cobwebs within
Medusa's redstone heart, tumbling at my tulip-tombstone.
Now, nebulous blackbirds, rise from corbeau cinders, as
Onyx wings of resilience have torn apart and
Pierced every sheath of shimmering faith - surrendering to the
'Queen of darkling serendipity', as her clemency clenches me onto the cusp of
Rhetoric valleys and winds pirouette with a pirate's porcelain wave,
Silencing the saffron of my soulful sculpture, in eternal streams of fall.
Thornless fate has forevermore, been an insomniac illusion and maybe,
Ultraviolet elegies of saturn's rings will become a noose for my dreams and
Viola orbs will encase every dove-dawn in a woeful chrysalis,
When anxiety's darkling dungeon, spreads across rustic realms and
Xanthic Satan dethrones my poinsettia-crown, as survival holds onto the
Yarns of last crystal light within Cleopatra's claustrophobic hope. But in the
Zillionth moment - my heart shall wail in rhymeless refrain - am I the one, lost?
In tender light of pink sunrise
under a sheer, swiveling sky,
you rescued me on jagged rocks,
then from the haze, shined you and I.
This joyous place upon a strait
over the gently roiling sands,
is where our love rose on the winds
surrounded by salt-kissed wetlands.
Clear, cyan seas flowed tranquilly,
and in love's trance, I fell for you.
What started as my heart’s secret,
I shared with seagulls as they flew.
Waves surged and sprayed across the shore,
mist glistened and blew off the dune.
Then kindest eyes found love in mine
as tides swelled in glow of full moon.
Today, I count my days as blessed.
I am assured by faithfulness.
I’m lifted to your waiting shores
as glistening waves flow effortless.
The copse of aspens quake.
Horses graze and cows laze
as languid summer splays
emeralds in its wake,
low fields to overtake
the prospect's cyan glaze.
Immutable the sun
in lambent saffron drape
above the lucid scape
contemplates the glisten,
auscultates the paean,
the whispering of crepe
as runes the leaves impart
to dulcify the heart.*
*Hexsonnetta is a form invented by Andrea Dietrich
1/7/18
Written: December 05, 2023
__________________________________________
Earth's mysteries—swirling in the sky.
Heaven is comely with lemon meringue.
Vaporizing clouds are dulcet and colored.
Cinnamon light was shed on my shoulders.
Peering onto the horizon of a waning sun.
Beethoven and Mozart split into the ether.
Ruby tangos fuchsia in an outburst of ecstasy.
Fetching hues of elixir flash and flare.
Obsidian clouds yield a rumble of thunder.
Cumulus clouds coal-colored clusters.
In erratic black seas, akin to rogue boats.
Thunderclaps imbue a shiny sheen.
A cyan-blue sky casts her limbs outward.
Soaring saffron butterflies and kites.
A cloud of endorphins shrouds the world.
Amid raucous mirth and glamor lullabies.
The sky's evocative color palette.
sparked by the effervescent moonlight.
delightful days laced with zeal and zest
amid a kaleidoscope hallucination.
SEA DAFFODILS
On the island of Comino
Naked rocks are burning hot,
Without mercy, sun at midday
Robs the shade from every spot.
It’s a bare desolate area,
Here the snakes are free to crawl,
Lazy lizards meditating
Where the gnarled wild bushes sprawl.
I trudge on towards the inlet
Drawn by water cyan blue;
It’s deserted and inviting
For it’s known only to few.
I arrive and there to greet me
On dry sand a wondrous sight
I behold, sensual, alluring
Virgin flowers dressed in white.
----------------------------------------
*Comino is one of the islands that
form the Maltese Archipelago.
----------------------------------------
22nd January, 2015
Contest: Hidden Beauty
Sponsor: Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
Placed: 2nd
Journey to the Afterlife - in Blue
The funeral barge of zaffre and gold sails
as sunlight reflects like ultramarine diamonds
on River Nile. In the shade of a turquoise canopy,
under the bright azure of heaven, Nefertiti lies,
draped in cobalt royal robes, regal
in silent sapphire. Behind cerulean death mask,
her spirit wanders in electric indigo dreams,
through peaceful fields of periwinkle clouds,
to the heart of a lush, lapis lazuli oasis.
With Osiris her soul now comes to rest...
in the deep calm cyan of the afterlife.
07-13-2018
Contest: A Poem NA'd in July Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart a.k.a Broken Wings
Placement: 2nd
Floating fluttering fleurs
are jewels in fuchsia and magenta
transmuting into taffy hue
with the kiss of dappled sunlight
like her cheeks that blush in pink
with his wondering wink.
The willows are stalactites
seducing newly bloomed nympheas
slumbering in Egyptian blue water
like her shaggy windswept hair
teasing her beloved's face
beneath the dancing moonlight.
Oh, Monet,
your 'en plein air' emphyrean elegance
awakens my sacrosanct senses
as I envisage a Filbert brush
glazing each pearly petal
highlighting sun's luster
on emerald to lime leaves,
on cyan to admiral water,
reflecting cerulean sky
in consummate chiaroscuro.
7 April 2022
A Briand Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
8th place
Notes:
In 1893, Monet, a passionate horticulturist, purchased land with a pond near his property in Giverny, intending to build something "for the pleasure of the eye and also for motifs to paint." The Water Lilies is a 1919 painting by impressionist Claude Monet, one of his Water Lilies series. The painting, the left hand panel of a large pair, depicts a scene in Monet's French pond showing light reflecting off the water with water lilies on the surface.
(www.metmuseum.org)
*plein-air painting, in its strictest sense, the practice of painting landscape pictures out-of-doors; more loosely, the achievement of an intense impression of the open air (French: plein air) in a landscape painting(www.britannica.com).
Atmospheric perspective such a common ruse
You know way off in the distance a mirage of blue
Nitrogen and oxygen meet wavelengths above
A sky gathering that becomes a type of scattering
Creating the effect of a canvas mistakenly blue
A visual type of sorcery for the colour isn't true
Kind of like the occurrence within our blue eyes
A different sort of scattering makes a colour disguise
Not one person's eyes carry any cyan pigment
However we all do see this color eye so different
Vincent Van Gogh loved ultramarine and cobalt too
And Augustus Renoir used it primarily to set moods
From the mines in Afghanistan came lapis luzuli jewel
This adorned every Egyptian Crown to be sparkling blue
During the Renaissance marine was most commonly used
These are some facts of our favorite colour blue
01/04/19
For Contest "Blue"
Up the rolling hills
As much green as one can see
Meeting with blue sky
As colors swirl together
Beauty expressed with its heart
The greatest green grass
Displaying color outside
On the brightest fields
A gorgeous feel about it
A love on the ground below
The hills move around
Where the sky fills, up above
A cyan blue shown
Mixed perfectly with the green
Of the wondrous grass pronounced
The greenery here
In this harmonious land
Brightens the dreary
A happy day is brought forth
From this delightful green place
Russell Sivey