Best Purple Poems
Once Upon a Purple Sunrise
Pretty as a Periwinkle,
in your frilly summer frock,
the one with purple polka dots
that matched the cool of early dawn.
Haloed in hazy lavender hue,
I'll always remember you;
running barefoot through
the cornfields still wet
with translucent drops
of fragrant morning dew.
The scent of damp, fresh grass
lingering on your waist-length,
ebony braids, that wrestled free
of their crimson satin ribbons,
floating away in the pale blaze
of a new day, riding on a gentle breeze.
Your childish giggles drifted
through rows of raspberries bushes,
a look of total wonder reflected
in your bright smiling hazel eyes,
innocent as the wispy grey clouds,
that awake with the surprise
of a transient glowing sunrise.
Where did you come from,
Little Sprite, with your
mischievous deep dimples,
cherry-stained cheeks and lips?
Even gazelles would be jealous
of your long, lithe brown legs,
graceful as a swan's,
gliding in casual slow motion.
Carefree as a hummingbird,
hovering in suspended animation,
you were lost in the beauty
of your own song.
Did you forget me,
waiting for you with
finger sandwiches and sweet tea?
But that was okay –
it was your time to wander
in an ocean of wild yellow daisies
that needed to sprout
in your youthful heart…
take root and grow
in your memory forever.
02-17-2018
Best New Poem - 2/20/18
Poem of the Week 2/25/18
Sponsor: Silent One
Contest: Sunrise and Sunset
Placement: 1st
That first glimpse of purple in the gloaming
As dawn softly rises in morning skies
Ascending along with nature's colors
Is a look of faith and hope in thine eyes.
Wrapped in the rays of sun's glorious hues;
There dwells a calm that instills peace and love
With a passion that enters every cell
In divine grace that shines light from above.
Meditate to serene silent music
As the melody of birds sing along.
Elated at the birth of the morning
They share delight in their sweet varied song.
Open your heart to passions of others...
Feel with the empathy God has bestowed.
Then you will know the true meaning of life
In the receiving back of blessings sowed.
9-25-17 rev.
Mementos in a box, from years gone by
Thought to have been disposed of long ago
A glance, when something purple caught my eye
A ribbon from someone I used to know
I gently gave a tug like way back when
It slipped from it's confines just like before
Then instantly relived it all again
And just like her, it leaves me wanting more
But even though it was so delicate
This ribbon in it's femininity
Tied in her hair it looked so elegant
Yet strong enough to bind her memory
This ribbon with it's strength beyond compare
Ties fifty years to my first love affair
By Daniel Turner
I write so many poems that you don’t see
They end up in purple poem cemetery
Mangled in the **** of my maroon mind
Tangerine tangles of wasted time
Violet vines of not good enough
Tall teal trees of unreturned love
Winged words white like albino leaves
Falling to their death from teal tree
Falling for you’re deaf to my poet tree
Bass treble cleft left in green cerebral dream
Unsung songs unmade love
Sing a longs gone wrong
Made in maroon lust
But somehow I manage to hold on to it
Maybe it will be reborn as a chocolate kiss
of rainbow reflection of historical views
Of future endeavors red spice unused.
Stay a little longer
come closer to my heart
Breathe dew breeze on my neck's nape
do not yet depart
Play for me bagpipe music
Blindfold all my starving fears
Let the dulcet tones of your voice
give us back those harvest years
Make of the citrus moon a ballroom
Hold me firmly from both hands
Lift me high to touch the star-sky
Show me how young peasants dance
Let my soothing fingers trail
across your caloused sun -soaked skin
In purple fields Come chase me
in that place our souls have been
Take me away with you
where this world is out of sight
Where unspoken thoughts and heartbeats
are enough to blaze the night.
Long ago, purple was only for the rich.
No one else could wear it, not a purple stitch.
It was just for kings and rulers of the world.
They had all the gold, the rubies, and the pearls.
But all around this gorgeous globe, purple could be found.
On flowers, clouds, and insects--why, purple does abound!
It seems to me a gift from someone way up high,
Saying we're ALL special. ~ That's why purple makes me cry.
January 19, 2019
Purple Premier Poetry Contest
Kevin Shaw, sponsor
2nd Place
Baxter was born in a meadow
under a rotting plank
with hundreds of brothers and sisters
in a home both darkly and dank.
His momma was a June Bug
and he was a June Bug too,
schooled in all the sorts of things
that June Bugs love to do.
He grew up fast, it was time to fly
and leave his happy home,
his momma went to the book case
and pulled out a well worn tome.
She read from a chapter called "Hazards"
to each of her children dear,
“Stay clear of birds when you’re flying
or you won't last out the year."
"And one more thing that you should know,
and this you must absorb,
beware of the light in the evening sky
that's called the purple orb."
So he left his home behind him,
went flying all around,
he saw some birds in the tree tops
and headed right for the ground.
After landing in the tall grass
he met a stink bug named Dwight
who told him wonderful stories
of an light so purple and bright.
"Forget now what your mother said,
I'm here to set you straight,
the orb is just a doorway,
you know, it's like a gate."
"When you enter into its brightness
you're magically swept away
to a lovely world of happiness
where forever you can stay."
So Baxter started searching,
he looked both high and low
and if he found the purple orb
straight to it he would go.
But the light was very clever,
it kept its secret well,
but Baxter kept on looking
as if he was under a spell.
Finally on an August eve
just as darkness was appearing
he spotted a distant purple glow
across a meadow's clearing.
"It must be the orb,” he said to himself,
so he flew with all his might
across the meadow with all due speed
toward that beautiful purple light.
Soon he hovered before it
and bathed in its eerie glow,
what wonders lay in store for him
his mind could scarcely know.
Gathering up his courage
into the purple light he sped,
crackle and zap was all he heard
as he fell to the ground near dead.
He lay in a growing pile
of other bugs who'd seen
a purple orb up in the sky,
but it wasn't what it seemed.
So if you meet a stink bug
who goes by the name is Dwight
don't believe the tales he tells
of a beautiful purple light.
Remember what Baxter's momma said,
"and this you must absorb,
beware of the light in the evening sky
that's called the purple orb."
I love pink rose flowers Kept safe by thorns on the flowers Big smiling sunflowers Wide face opening up to the red sun, flowers Ruffled white carnation flowers petticoats worn beneath the flowers Many colors of lily flowers Their cups make the perfect rain catching flowers Beautiful purple lilac flowers Each bud comes to make it's own flowers Daffodils known as buttercup flowers Beautiful little yellow spring flowers Big or small orchid flowers The smell from one fills the room like a bouquet of flowers The yard is filled with dandelion flowers Make a tea-make a salad flowers Yellow or white petals from daisy flowers He loves me-he loves me not flowers
Date Written: 8/6/2021
8/8/2021 Poem of the Day Winner "Beautiful Flowers"
"And"
2 Place
9/1/2021 The Marmite Poem Contest Judged: 9/1/2021
Sponsored by: Natasha L Scragg
Splendor of soft shoulders
caressed by sinking sun
Out my window the western slope
of the thick coated Rocky Mountains
Once upon a clear cold Colorado Chrstmas
purple brushed horizon flecked with gold
filled my picture window
Mesmerized I stood staring
at this huge canvas hung in the Louver
God's and goddesses swirling about
in a swath of psychedelic clouds
refracting the colors of slow dimming light
Mt. Olympus in my living room
I was seventeen living in a dream
high up in the sandstone cliffs
carved out by the west's Mississippi
Nature, sweet mother of mine, purging
my childhood nightmare with sunsets
mountains, rivers and springs
On the banks of that fat river below
I listened to nothing but hope
Even in the echo of crackling ice
Even when she froze everything still
she made life beautiful
Never ever did she
punish my anger
but kissed it away with her love
with forests, flowers, birds and trees
She gentled my soul when I held her hand
and took me back from the jails and hospitals
every time I ran
Seventeen, fresh from my last disaster
Christmas Eve eight hundred miles
from expulsion and friends I missed
my dreaded return to the last place I left
There she was…
… arms spread clear across the valley
to hug me… her renegade child
My mother, bless her heart--
--wasn't happy to see her headache return
But my "other" mother was.. yeah
I took refuge in the painted cliffs and canyons that surrounded me
and when I came down to the valley floor
I would stop before the bridge
and walk down to listen to the big water's mighty roar…
It never stopped rolling and never ran dry
despite all obstacles
and neither did I
My savior doesn't have a birthday
but I will celebrate my hope in "His"
Just that warm sun
slinking like a coyote
over the western horizon
that Christmas Eve
is all the hope I'll ever need
As I Rose From Purple Slumberland, My Heart Red Aflame
As I rose from purple slumberland, my heart red aflame
There within crackling old bones was an itching in the game
Was there honorable valor in soul's deeper felt hate
Dare I tempt yet again the hard vicious hand of Fate
Last time, repercussions were almost impossible to bear
But scorching volcano in me cried it is only fair
Had not the evil temptress burned alive my best friend
But my sword will certainly be her righteously brought end.
It was then I knew the unholy beast had flown back home
Had done ghastly work, leaving behind bloodshed as it roam
Not sparing innocent lives of babies and young kids
Seeking to slay wherever they went and cleverly hid
Ahh but, this true sword and razor-sharp blade it soon may greet
And within all of death's aching throes its demise thus meet
A sworn oath, a promise sword upon an ancient stone
The huge monstrous beast will receive wherever it has flown.
As gleaming moon its golden rays showered upon earth
I knelt to pray to my God for all of my worldly worth
To gift me insight and power to end its wicked life
And that I am not to be shredded by its claw-like knife
Or even bitten by any of its long daggerlike teeth
Nor knocked senseless and its trampling feet stomped beneath
This sincerest prayer I utter to Heaven up high
That in this Holy quest, God rewards me, I do not die.
Robert J. Lindley, Narrative
Nov. 23rd, 1973, age 19
Part One...
Old Note- 1973-- To be finished later....
New Note-
Posting this old poem now because we are down from the mountainside and we have a wifi connection. Will finish this poem at a later date, conclude it in Part Two- " the final battle""/ RJL
I am that little light that shines
Within your heart inside your mind
That rises floats despite dark dilemma
I keep you warm despite white December
I am the start when some say end
That little spark of blue you begin
The make a way out of neon nothing
To pave to raise the road to green dream
I am a yes when life says no
And you digest a positive soul
That cherry confess to be inclined
To walk by faith and not by sight
I am lavender love despite hate
And tender touch that makes a day
I am of peach peace in any place
Find me with ease when you pray
I’m the fuchsia flower blooming your soul
I am purple power I am hazel hope
Beauty
The fields of lavender
purge their purple souls
in rolling rows
as they steal your breath.
She was once like they...
transparent, innocent of knowing
her beauty matched theirs
and could make you weep.
In a vast sea of scents and sights
poetry floats to the top
gathering sunrays
as if they were tangible.
4-1-19
~First Place~
Favorite Poem From Last Week (March 31-April 6, 2019)
Sponsor Lu Loo
This pomegranate heart
dreams to travel upon
a periwinkle path which
leads to the province,
where her royal majestic
persona resembles
papillon emperors,
floating under
mauveine skies,
adored by radiant rays from
the plummeting plum sun.
Serene clouds drift under
her lepidolite lilac gaze,
holding morning glory
amethyst raindrops,
ready to soothe her
fervid velvet petals.
A plethora of heather shelters
a rare rose dressed in violet,
flourishing under an
enigmatic Jacaranda tree,
surrounded by lush lilies,
infatuating irises alongside
opulent orchids,
blossoms infused with the
allure of musky ambience.
Tranquil twilight paints the
horizons in lavender hues,
stars appear like raisins
under magenta moonlight.
Her desires flow like rivers
of sangria and Syrah waterfalls,
bursting vibrantly through
mulberry mountains over
blueberry hills.
I have no desire
to reside in a place where
burgundy is too red
and indigo is too blue -
only in her unique aura
of heavenly purple shades.
Wan is the hiemal world outdoors,
The biting breeze blows bitter,
like a blizzard building in momentum,
Cold creeps in through the closed windows,
But his harmonic heart is happy and warm,
touched by tantalizing tingles of tender tunes.
~ silent violins play violet symphonies ~
The mystery of mauve melodies mesmerise his mind,
as he is lost within his mellifluous macrocosm;
Intoxicated with invigorating inspirations,
he experiences euphonious euphoria,
Forgetting the frost and frozen fingertips,
he hums sweet sonatas in the making.
~ soothing arias arouse amethyst emotions ~
A string of soft heliotrope strains
brush away the brumal brutality,
And even as the notes swell, they quell the chill,
The warbling waves wind up in a waltz,
resonating sizzling rhythms all around the room;
Content with cantatas serenading magenta Maestoso.
~ lilac lyrics light up lavender legacies ~
In the hall of clocks and mirrors,
Winds of time bring fragrant whispers,
Of midnights of magic moonlight,
And reflections of past delights!
Of golden days when lost in blooms,
And dancing joy in summer rooms!
A blur of green in woodland scene,
And the purple twilights velveteen.
Time's reversed to infinity,
As ensues with sweet memory.
And heartsongs waft, out of mauve mists,
And all life's seasons coexist!