Best Dyes Poems
When midnight flames flicker aesthetic reveries,
releasing ashes of rainbow petals,
upon the canvas of undressed seasons,
I delve into blue blurs of butterflies,
framed in floating colors of nostalgia,
aching for dried dyes to home this scraped heart~
hanging loose, within smoky imagery,
as if every pigment will sprout from lilies of longing.
But can memories thaw frozen zeal,
illustrating steamy sunsets with liquefied rubies,
to unveil a timeless era, retouched and restored,
from the dust of dusks composed in surrealism?
And I, the splattering of an ink-blot,
persist as a dramatized kiss of tongue-stroked silence,
like a portrait, isolated in artistic utopia,
as love is more than a metaphor that speaks to the moon;
a pastel palette textured with melted roses~
saturated stars can interpret…
the light breeze
cooled the morning sun
daytrip Venice
had begun
vantage views
from a vaporetto
inch-by-inch
the skyline began to grow
St Marks cameinto view
etched on a sky so blue
tourist scrambled
from the boat
sensory feelings inside emote
ambling along piazzas wide
campanile renaissance
a city's pride
byzantine palaces bridge of sighs
facias painted
in pastel dyes
gothic churches candles ablaze
carvings to draw the gaze
depicted ceilings vivant tableau
golden bedecked reredos
pizza italiano barolo red wine
relax chat then dine
'neath parasoled
courtyard shade
as gondaliers anchor
to quayside arcade
homward along canal grande
below balconies
overhanging sun-tanned
houses emulsioned terracotta bold
kaleidoscopic memories
made manifold
QUOTE ME RUMI
Plant me in the garden next door.
I want to be a man no more.
I don’t want to have pain in me.
I don’t want to be me with me.
I don’t want to see the world as such;
Sorrow, hunger, unjust too much.
I want to kiss the breeze at night.
Running away from the pain and plight.
I want to bloom colors and dyes.
Seeing the world with less despise.
I want to bathe in rain and dew.
Immerse myself in love, renew.
I want to feed the birds and bees.
Be the reason for lovers to please.
I want to be a man no more,
and do the things I‘ve done before.
11/28/15 Haloo
11/28/15 Haloo
“Yesterday, I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today, I am wise, so I am changing myself” Rumi.
Just a Little Bit Free
I feel that I need to get out
to walk by the oak and pine trees
breathe fresh air and. see young creatures
climb pines and fences — roam all about
I feel the need to have the sun
warm my bones, my tendons my veins
I want to hear people laugh and
walk with their dogs out to the park
throw balls have picnics have fun
I want to say hello and talk
For I know they have been polite
watching me now for 2 years
trips to doctors, to surgery with a cap
and thin hair, with a cane taking walks
They ask me how I am
and I smile and say good
now a year later they appear
to believe me, a large breath escapes
now its only every 4 months I go for an exam
Still the doctors tell me to be careful
to stay away from children with
their sneezes and coughs
A lonely prescription, but
I do have my dogs
Another MRI and dyes injected
another Congressman gone from
the same disease, so sad but his was a 4
and I am a stage 3. still every
blood lab is collected, every cell inspected
This weekend we hope to see
a play under the pine trees
I will get tired and my bones and spine
will ache, my brain will need a quiet rest
Cancer of the brain is not
an easy thing to fight off, its tough, unkind
though now it could be a year or possibly more
the chemo/radiation is cruel, but for this month
I feel good enough to allow me to be
just a little bit alive —a little bit free
Believer of starlight,
Blooming love in twilight
Bestows soft latte skies,
Blissful faith of peach dyes
Bronze balm in sun's flutter,
Bright glow of honey in
Butterfly's mauve kismet.
Full of marketable commodities like xebec.
Waves of pure affection are slashed mercilessly.
Feelings: a sea upon which to wander carefree.
Devil swears to be a dove to trick people cursorily.
The doll dances on a string of yellow-golden hair.
It dyes its lips crimson with the blood of its lost prey.
It attracts people with its flirtatious smile and low blare.
Because of her, falls even the most religious people.
The ashes of destroyed rags cover the black eyes.
A sparkling smile covers Beelzebub's smile.
Her mistress is responsible for her spiritual slave.
A dark soul lurked deep within his radiant skin style.
Silicon's enticingly boosted slopes were xyloid-brittle.
Sword-like claws dig into the soul in sensual delight.
Obsession can be generated by female objects.
She does terrible things to helpless people fight.
The floral fantasies all turn xerophilous and prickly.
Salacious downpours became unending floods of sobs.
A terrible memory of a lost love left him feeling empty.
The reverberation of her laughing still throbs.
Written: September 15, 2022
Tragi comedy Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
Word bank:
*xebec-also spelled zebec, was a Mediterranean sailing ship that was used
mostly for trading.
*Beelzebub- Satan, the Devil.
*xyloid- resembling qualities of wood
*xerophilous- A xerophile is an extremophilic organism that can grow and
reproduce in conditions with low availability of water.
The sky was yellow, with sparkling beams
in iridescent gold
reflected on the pointed hat
of an elf, two centuries old.
The hostess of the hour was sweet
in a robe of mismatched dyes.
She entertained with merely this--
a kiss in her root beer eyes.
The placemats were of baby fern,
woven in intricate green,
and laughter was heard like the tinkling of bells,
near the banks of an ebony stream.
I boarded a raft for an underground cave,
which was carved in a spiral pattern.
The subterranean symphony hall
was draped in coral satin.
At the end of the course was a water-slide
in hues of ultraviolet,
with children bouncing up and down.
They prevailed upon me to try it.
Though some might want to interpret this,
myself, I'm in no hurry
to analyze such a sweet retreat,
which woke me without a worry.
Sleep.. indigo’s eyes, night loving allies,
Sol’s flare is stars' disguise dawn till dusk’s reprise,
peach awe-inspired skies effuse juice sunrise,
east, grapefruit pink lies - lemon slice rhapsodize.
Pastel wash replies to Zephyrus sighs,
morning glory highs yield to afternoon’s surprise..
wings golden butterfly's, squires sun clockwise,
ruddy west implies cocktail hour’s devise,
sunlight’s demise creeps in blueberry dyes,
plum, mango fraternize as prim-rose chastise.
Sunset complies sending signal-light fireflies,
Wake! indigo’s eyes, night loving allies,
tantalize poets to romanticize.
Susan Ashley
August 17, 2017
~ First Place ~
Contest: Your Best Monorhyme
Sponsor: William Kekaula
Rhymes checked at (RY) rhymer.com
First title: A Tale of Two Sheep
Black Sheep has wool too dark for dyes.
No one wants him; Black Sheep cries.
White Sheep, though, gets praise for wool
which takes all hues. They call him cool!
Black sheep's the creep. That is the tale
which, sadly, folks know all too well.
3/6/16. Revised Feb. 17, 2017
For the Colors Black and White Poetry Contest of Laura Loo/center>
Disco dreams and disco balls
Big city,bright lights
Pub crawls and bar fights.
Mini frocks and hair dyes
Made up faces
Mascara filled eyes.
Vodka martinis and champagne
Bus trips and black cabs
Standing in the rain.
Nightclubs and deejays
Entry stamps on wrists
And tattooed fists.
Late nights and hangovers
Fast cars and kebabs
White wine spritzers
And mishaps.
One night stands and live bands
Autographs and queues
Sing-a-longs and sad songs
And over packed loos.
One line gags and handbags
Glitter and sparkling eyes
Cigarettes and suffragettes
Gossip and lies.
Brawls,another one falls
Drunks and punks
Frilly skirts and love hurts
And late rides.
Secret kisses and front row seats
Cinema aisles
Red lipped smiles
Beauties and beasts.
Flashy cars and night time stars
Takeaways and glad rags
Silly jokes and whiskey cokes
Dreams and high hopes.
Nights out and walkabouts
Cheap thrills and teenage wonder
Hitch hikes and motorbikes
Delinquent lightning and thunder.
In reflection on the ebb and flow -
it enchanted the moon to fall in love, but, the skin of the skies
wore bruised purple dyes from hardships of the day. Dawning tides
moved with poignant rhythm to a beating but bereft heart
swept out to a wept sea.
Susan Ashley
May 6, 2019
~ First Place ~
Contest: I Got A Darn N/A Again
Sponsor: Lu Loo
Entered June 14, 2019
*N/A'd*
Contest: May 2019 Premier 2, Any Form, Any Theme, Max of 5 Lines
Leaves of Lilith, fall like butterflies
as I slither in souls, secluded by time ~
where treacherous tulips still mourn the death of magnolia moon,
hidden within scentless sepals, which couldn't be their evergreen anchor...
Hear the echoes of grieving dawn,
whose tamed scars forgot to unfurl my truths beyond memories ~
scripting me like misplaced intuition, surfing on those whispering waves,
for I've always blossomed upon heartaches, in gardens of metaphors ~
hibernating as the turmeric taste of melting sun...
I'm the untouched ink of sin ~
swirling across silver patience ebbing along the starlit peacock-golds,
where daffodil dryads throb in ancient dyes and I'm caramelised...
above sonnets soaked in skeletal promises,
my reason rests within wisdom, an ageless mirage...
winter wellspring
greyness dyes white clouds
brittle gales howl ice and pant ~
still meadows shiver
sequoia trees thirst
fog mists bathe redwood giants ~
rose petals gild snow
cold delirium
in frenzies of snowflake squalls ~
silver forests gleam
ice castles glitter
with gems of furious fire ~
fields of frost bouquets
twilight alpenglow
coral shadows dance on hills ~
nordic neon show
wellspring of winter
on white wings of solstice dreams ~
winter streams gurgle
1-26-23
Syllables checked with www.howmany syllables
Remember when grandma would boil the eggs?
There were no fancy color kits to buy.
She used crushed berries for the royals, purple and blue,
tea or coffee for sunny shades of yellow and orange,
and spinach for gracious green (the only way I liked it at the time).
Glorious golden and regal red – from onion skins! Oh my!
If she had eggplant or red cabbage, she made precious pink and purple.
What passionate pastels emerged and earthy hues of neutral nature!
colors of nature
repurposed from the heavens ~
two times the blessing
No chemical dyes with eggs swiftly finished and decorated in one sitting.
Grandma’s eggs took gathering the eggs from the nest,
food or food scraps, a couple of days, several helping hands, various
utensils and implements, and make quite the mess! A perfect process!
humble beginnings
after a long abstinence ~
a welcome reward
Oh, the love and joy from decorating those eggs.
No kit can ever compare.
Cardinal and the Rose
As greyness dyes white clouds
When icy fingers rattle wind chimes of icicles
A shiver rustles still meadows of frost bouquets;
Through brittle gales that howl
Like exiled banshees
A tiny golden cardinal seeks
The last yellow rose of summer
That still blooms in shades of sunlight,
In hues of joyful perfume,
To catch her falling petals etched in sunbeams
As the solstice savage delirium casts them
Into the consuming crystal fire of frost;
Before they whither into forgetfulness
This tiny symbol of devotion
Gathers memories of warm afternoons
To line her winter nest with petals of hope
And the fragrance of joy for golden fledglings
As gilded buds return on new stems
To repeat the cardinal’s warbling song.
1-5-22
Contest: Cardinal and the Rose
Sponsor: Craig Cornish