Best Lemon Yellow Poems
the box of Crayola’s has fallen to the floor
like pick-up sticks they lay, crisscrossed
and I without a partner or a pair of jacks
rolled paper named & swirled in ink of black
periwinkle and puce displayed
side by side the candied rainbow huddles
like children whispering at play
lilac and orchid cuddle
see the rusty red and the crimson lay
grin and giggles surround the paper pages
as the parents are kept at bay
lemon yellow is the sun
and saffron the flower in the bay
pink the fingers which grasp and pile
the colors so arrayed, by the fallen box
of crayons in the golden light of day
4/12/14
3 polished oak fans,
Swirling in robotic unison
High maintenance socialites,
Sipping on Merlot fallacies
Lemon yellow coated walls,
Flat,
Like their smiles
Comparisons of dangling Porsche & Bentley keys
A glorified day care center,
Pacifiers included
The muted virtuosos speak softly in hymn dialects.
Courtesy laughter in snob’s octave
Their heads twitching side to side,
Left to right to left
An equilibrium facing assault charges against self
They slow dance to cello dreams
And E minor dividends
Two-step monotone, sway
Against platinum lacquer foundations
…
But, it was then.
These same socialites,
Made of recycled candle wax
And rubberized, hedge-fund confidence,
Began to stare longingly at the party host’s 70 inch plasma TV
Proudly imported from China
“Attention uptight snobs of Mecca!
The city zoo has imploded!
The monkeys revolted!
The zebras were tired of being racially profiled!
Run for your LIV…!”
(SMASH!)
And before the reporter’s frightened inner child could finish’s his clause,
An elephant crashes into the decadent room
Filled with Crisp linen scents of Febreze & judgmental fear
It stares at the socialites,
Laughing heartedly as it playfully stomps away into constellation’s onyx night
As tears waterfall from the snobs’ sobbing eye sockets
As if they just listened to another Celine Dion song
The real newsflash
Metaphors played hooky today
©Drake J. Eszes
Splashes of pink from the flowering Crabapple....haze through
the sturdy square of lemon yellow glass - framed in Knights's Armor
....at parade rest on my porch.
Inside on the ledge, my Christmas Cactus welcomes Spring....with
bazookas exploding triple pink perfections in every direction!
~~~ these are my favorites ~~~
~~~ rising from the soil~~~
~~~ shaped in glass ~~~
When I'm pink, sound disappears
....and comets are late for tea
Perfect prisms of lemon light my intentions....prevent my escape
Sometimes, I wonder how long it will last....before the lemon sours
....the cactus only bristles....and the crabapple is bitter, once again....
....dedicated to AG....xxxooo
Slowly and silently, keeping time with the raindrops
I open my petals to whisper a soft, sweet melody
Of insight into the Creator’s inspiration for my purity
My life’s blood is streaked with clarity and compassion
Coloring me in hues of crimson, amber and lemon yellow
Daily, I open each trembling flower to a delicate sunlight
Enlightening the dawn with a beautiful array of enchantment
Breathing whimsical order in the fashion of petals that grace
Each spectator with feelings of appreciation for my powerful
Presence, my fragility shadowed with dreams and passions
Graciously, I lift up my head toward the morning rainstorm
Feeling drenching showers pour across my spirit’s essence
Creating a melancholy that breeds illuminations of sorrow
Which soon turns into a sweet harbinger of tomorrow’s glory
Delicious sentiments of what will soon be the praise of God
Applauding Him with my fingers of illusive discernments
Honoring Him with my faint hints of vitality in emotion
Acclaiming Him as the world’s most glorious designer
Admiring Him for all that He’s given to His creation
Praising Him with every part of my peaceful spirit, eternally.
I am the flower that rises above my loss of life and limb
To the joy of knowing that through existing I am filled with
Compassion and praise that fills up this dismal land called earth
With true expressions of kindness and charity that is known
To be the way to God’s heart, where I hope to always go!
The Flower, The Thorn Or Both Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
July 6, 2020
“A flower of strange beauty, growing in a desolate spot, and blossoming in the wind.”
— Nathaniel Hawthorne
Blooming zinnias, swaying in the breeze,
Elegance attracting
cute little hummingbirds with ease,
Hues impacting;
Lemon yellow butterflies flit around,
Collecting sweet nectar,
Zinnias stand tall in the ground,
Sole protector;
Hearts flutter at the sight of these flowers,
Cheerfully spread good vibes,
Small, yet potent, they have powers
no tongue describes.
21st December 2022
For Constance La France's "Writing challenge - Zip, Zig, Zag, Zing" contest
During my morning strolls along country paths
The world comes alive in all its gleam n’ glitter
What lovely autumn vistas unfurl and pass me by
What miracles of creation, what wonders of life
What variety, what fantastic medley
What serene peace, what easeful tranquility
Sights and scenes that hold one’s breaths
Sounds and songs that chase away the moody aches
Autumn leaves of crimson red, lemon yellow
And rusty orange, as they drop, they swirl and whirl
Fly in the wind, some landing on my body and tickling me-
A rare feel that this special season alone can give!
Avian chatter of birds migrating to the south,
Blended with the music of leaping cataracts,
And their echoes sent out by tall rocks and giant boulders.
All that pleases the eye and ear in euphoric delight!
Had I been a Raphael or Rembrandt,
I would have transferred those scenes onto a canvas,
Which one would never get tired of gazing at,
And kept in the drawing room for everyone to see
Or a Wordsworth to have composed those immortal
Tintern Abbey lines, inspired by these ‘beauteous forms’
To be recalled and recited by men of all ages and climes
That they ever ring resonant in their private closets!
Dec. 14.2022
~Placed Third~
Brian's Contest- You Choose
~Placed Second ~
Still Life of Autumn Scene Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Eve Roper
They came lined up like chorus girls -
Just five, though, in a row,
A plastic cover letting them
Be visible below.
Protected, they stayed soft and fresh
Until the wrapper tore,
Most likely well before you even
Paid or left the store.
The colors, bright and cheery,
Topped with sugar, never bled –
A lemon yellow, orange, green,
A licorice black and red.
I mostly ate the red one first
But sometimes chose the black
And green, without a doubt, remained
The last one in the pack.
Though chewy Chuckles candies
In my childhood gained acclaim,
They never lived up to the joy
Expected by their name.
Blue- SPARKLES
from my twinkling eyes,
contrasting BLACK pupils to reveal to her my attraction!
Blue- you will no longer be the BEAT within my lonely spirit,
for lemon YELLOW citron eyes fill my shadowed corridors.
Blue- Your Midnight is scented with PUNGENT aromas,
I desire the brilliance of WHITE morning glories!
Blue- Allow the SALTINESS of her ocean to grace my tongue,
let me float upon tumultuous waves and gaze up at a SILVER moon.
Blue- so DESPERATELY felt,
revealing everything I long for,
yet I am doomed to see in shades of GREY
Her spirit Sparkles
with the ferocity
of a diamond black feline!
My heart beat skipping,
as I gaze into her lemon yellow citrine eyes.
The pungent aromas of pheromones enticing my being.
White passion pulsating deep within my minds eye.
I long to lick the saltiness from the small of her arching back..
Silver moon beams bathe the room and I relish what my eyes see!
Desperately I attempt to see beyond the shades of grey---
for the thing I desire most has always been,
COLOUR!
By Richard Lamoureux
Thanks for the challenge Tammy!
As the music began,
he bowed before her,
fingers outstretched, palm up.
Rising to her feet,
she placed her hand
in his, feather-light.
As they danced,
her lemon-yellow shoes
spun a blur of joy
in motion.
Round and round
the floor, they whirled,
eyes locked together,
hearts beating in rhythm.
He, in town after town,
forever haunts dance halls
searching
for the girl in yellow shoes
longing
for one more dance.
cfa© 7/10/2014
revised 9/13/2014 cfa
Green Grass
Green-- GLIMMER of dew on early dawn grass has a new beginning of GOLD sun-rays
Green-- RAIN from a wisp of TEAL sky pounds on pane glass,
Green-- BREEZE of cool crisp WHITE breath twisting and lacing, through bouts
Green-- SAVORING the herbs evokes a sour LEMON YELLOW taste
Green -– EMBRACES of nature, spring growth of nostalgic PURPLE
Glimmer, Gold, Rain, Teal, Breeze, White, Savoring, Lemon Yellow, Embraces, Purple
Dormant grass is first kissed by the glimmer of gold hued sunrise rays
The sound of panging rain beats in my ears, turns double rainbows into teal bluegrass
Breeze tightly weaves and curls through one another’s tendrils leaving a wisp of pure clean white scent
Savoring sweetly tangy flavor of lemon yellow tender blades of grass among the foliage
Autumn embraces nature’s colors of sunshine laced in purple flowers in summer
Heavenly
10/31/2015
contest: Green
sponsored by; Silent One
Shine on, radiant sun
Shine beyond the threshold
Of twilight. Cast a luminous haze
Over gloomy rainy days
Glory the wet Earth with sweet warmth
To mask the bitter aftertaste left
By today's rain. And just like yesterday
Color the cityscape lemon yellow
Shine your rays of dawn on those
Engulfed by darkness, day after day
Keep the chill off the air so the human race
Will happily dance in sunshine
Dry up puddles splattering unsightly mud
Swing your magic wand side to side
To tumble back the inverted pyramid
Piercing into a garden of beautiful flowers
Shine on, radiant sun
Beautifully bright as always
I dream of lounging on the beach
Come summertime
Date written: 04/07/2016
I went through the alphabet and wrote the first word that came to mind in alphabetical order then I put them into a poem. I think it’s pretty funny. Read it and reply…
Alternative, Barracuda, Catastrophe, Eventful, Dramatization, Faithful, Gruesome, Harmful, Jubilant, Kaleidoscope, Lemon, Maniac, Norway, Opulent, Precise, Quirky, Resentful, Shameful, Tantalizing, Unfortunate, Victory, Warranted, Xylophone, Yearning,
Zany
Playing With Words
As an alternative to dinner
we decided on the barracuda
which turned out to be a real catastrophe.
Without a full dramatization
of the eventful season we had, simply put,
we have been forever faithful to the cause.
Albeit gruesome or gross,
there were no concerns of harmful fish bones,
and we were jubilant when we
looked into the kaleidoscope
to find a lemon yellow redfish
with the personality of a maniac.
Much to our delight when took the fish to Norway we were
pleasantly surprised at the opulent and fanciful ways of the people.
We were extremely precise in our movements
around this quirky little town
not wanting to attract any resentful stares
while parading around in our shameful ways with our fish.
Our tantalizing habits drew much scorn
which was an unfortunate way impress others.
We heard a xylophone play in the distance and
had to resist our yearning to
overpower the townspeople with more zany
written rhetoric.
May you bring love
filling my night with stars
when the moon is lemon yellow
among celestial silver bars...
Come when the sun sets
the evening mellow and gray
or if you wish
come early in the day...
Embrace me when you're sad
and feeling full of grief
float into my arms
like a falling Autumn leaf...
Be the first wind
the Springtime blows
the morning star
as it flickers and glows...
You are dark my love
on my shoulder you may rest
my ebony nesting dove
always bringing out my best...
An
Umbrella
Lemon-yellow brilliant
Over my head and shoulders stooped
Protects me from getting the chesty croup
But praise God for long warm sunny days
Warm inviting outside for a relaxing exhilarating stay
Also
Thank
God
For
Your
Cover
y
a
d
T o -
Running memories
of a place in which
one walks and talks
in hushed tones.
Still, subdued, restrained
within a spirited energy
moving down rows of mystical bindings.
Intimate,
smelling musty on a rainy winter day,
passed through portals
where grandiose granite
lions guard the way.
Grandmother took me the first time.
I sat, at four, in a lemon yellow chair
as my feet touched the floor
(that had never happened before!).
Given a card on which the letters of my name
would be a magic wand,
I carried home treasures.
The Libraria.
A sanctuary grew as I knew
the joy of an explorer
within tales of other times,
other wordy worldly places,
as from meticulously managed shelves,
a perfectionist in me was bred.
The Library
evokes change in all.
With grown-up pretense left behind,
curious inner child faces abound -
eyes wide, heads cocked to and fro,
knees bend down, or arms stretch high
in search of knowledge, dreams, drama, escape.
The child in me will always find
spiritual wonder in this,
a special place.