Best Patina Poems

PATINA OF PAIN

Beneath the kaleidoscopic chameleon skin
the concept called color doesn’t ever change,
as red stream in the vein blood flows always thin.
The truth dwells beyond...

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A stampede of horses
captured 
their thunderous strides
frozen 
a magnificent scene 
unfolds
within a rich patina of
bronze. 

Artisan expression
brazen and bold
molding a stunning 
scene of nature
sparking the...

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The wonder of your smile is always there,
   just like you gave me on that special day,
      when...

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In my meadow the scent of spring ripples in air, 
I see the dance of patina on dainty petals of daisy, 
unfurling with the touch...

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In open space free
Steel and glass enclosure
A small moving space confined
My possession of pride
Momentum propelled by young drive
A companion of trust.

The wingless bird
Tunneled timid air
Dust...

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I heard the birds sing, felt when the breeze blew
for you as sunburst sky flushed your face in hue.
How adorable you were to me you...

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My head rests on the doorframe, as I'm watching him at work.
I'm jealous of the devotion, and the motion of his hands,
much surprised at the...

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Sun from the window, shines gold on the grain
with a faded patina that the new can't attain 
You have dusted my cobwebs, and polished my...

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The second coming of age,
is like the 
softened beauty 
of the color  s a g e;
rich in mellowed warmth
graced with shades and shines of...

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One night this darkness will end life
with clouds in damp fog without stars
and a moon dressed in tatters screaming
at feet scratched on pebbles in low-tide
rough...

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Bespangled 
she sashays up the shore 
from a sequin gowned sea
wearing the undulating waves
of aquamarine and ambrosial sheen
adorned with shimmering and shivering seeds of excitement...

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Gloaming is wont to quell
the ginger smoke,
expunge the crimson flames
that surround the mill.
Lilac shadows encroach 
to cloak the hull's mossy patina.
Autumn's wild rooster,
struts its brash...

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Your aura packs rapt confusion, it snap drags me with a cyclone’s aloof.
Your spring perfume cloaks your stroked fall-colored spoof
and your bright appeal conceals delusion...

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...The wee ones simply want to be loved. 
Or at least get a glimpse from 
a {smart}phoned adult.
They wish for a sandbox with a playmate...

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The desolate wasteland of deprivation traversed 
by my jagged life that tried so long so very hard  
to smoothen the angularities of the serrated...

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