Best Taupe Poems
Beside the sea I wait~
the dreamy dawn to shine
and paint horizon's hue
in tawny, taupe and teal
unveiling vivid view.
Beside the sea I wait~
the early birds in flight
arching like tiara
making sky a painting
of placid aurora.
Beside the sea I wait~
the whisper of the breeze
soaring as sunshine sings
her stellar symphony
reviving lost musings.
Beside the sea I wait~
the crashing of the waves
sparkling like sunlit snow
as they return to shore
my love will, too, I know.
Brown as a withered leaf
Crimson neckband with flashing wings of
winter taupe - bright green underneath.
Perched each day in the window’s bay
ever out of reach.
If I could bring you in
and teach your wild heart how to stay
every secret I hold would tell me
why you’ll fly away.
Autumn Bird stay here with me
and trill the notes to waken spring.
I was a red-violet, sunny morning person, usually up at the crack of dawn,
When orange light poured from the east, upon revival, dewy green lawns.
With a cup of aromal coffee, I'd watch yellow sunrise creep in the window,
Enjoying the zestful song of red robin, while night and day were in limbo.
I would take walks at the golden hour, flooded in light, just after a sunrise,
In the serenity of wanton, floral summer, slowly unveiling a destiny prized.
Visits of friends were features of morning, for sunup fondness is infective,
As flowers soak up colors of white sunlight, telling of the new perspective.
Family and I fascinated flaming sunsets, fancy dancing like we had forever,
At evening fetes, long fated; like feathery, dark green ferns-wind treasure.
I lived in the house of taupe sunrise, always trending towards golden noon,
As fitful stars, flickering like fireflies, stay on course, in presence of moon.
Sunhats, sandals and pretty sunflowers, were summer sights on my street,
In tranquil days of wild seas, giving the selfsame roar, as it cooled hot feet.
Nearby stars gleamed like natural pearls, on nebulous nights of neighbors;
And the natural conversation flowed nonstop, like the whistling wind labors.
Bat orchids awaited watchful moon, yearning for caves among field flowers;
When ballerina orchids danced, entranced, by plum shadows' magic powers!
Crimson corpse flower was blooming, in a torrid wake, held in lazy summer,
And snapdragon seed pods imitated skulls, where future flowers slumbered.
One day dawned exceptionally beautiful, a sight bringing rapture to my eyes;
As plum and orange, merged with pink, gold and red-fleeing night disguised!
I went about my productive work, but I noticed the day did not seem to age,
Like a glorious history book caught open, when distraction didn't turn a page.
Although I was very puzzled, I relished a pause for precious, pretty mystery;
Like the lovely, floral pause of gemmed hummingbirds, in times of blissfully.
After several long and rapturous hours, testy time gradually began to move,
For a beginning ever looks towards the end, as if it had everything to prove!
Caressing the mind
And kissing
Glossy, smooth stones
Liquid rippling
Flowing over the bed
Hues of taupe
Sand and charcoal
With hints of lavender
Coloring the emotions
Wistful, willful, warm
Like the flavor
Of a rising storm
Resting on the sand
Brilliant like the sunshine
Glowing in moonlight
Smooth stones
Risking their stability
In the currents
Gracefully pouring
Along the edge
Of an emerald forest
Pines, oaks and birch
A leaf dancing
In the starry flames
Night’s radiance
Whispering to souls
In prayers of faith
Discovered on
The winds of a day
Bought by the songs
Of wren and robin
Frogs on mossy stones
Beckoning to the
Promise of rainfall
Smooth, lasting stones
Layered on shores
Of rivers and creeks
Awakening the bare feet
To memories
Of childhood days
Spent wading, playing
In the clear, cool waters
Alive with sinuous fluid
Waters surging, rolling
Across the mind
Who delights in praising
The Creator who
Rests these stones
Upon the shores
Of hope and faith
Love which praises
As it slides
Across the surface
Of these fluent waves
Both agile and gracious
Molding the stones
In their favor
L Contest
Dust hapless had settled rough
On vacuous land, tanned in taupe
Lonely and distressed
As it simmered for life
Its flowers had died
Only a few left in time
To settle calm and blossom elsewhere
Bearing remnants of an era gone by.
Trees cried until they died
Their seeds lay morose
Unable to steal
Elixir for their life
Their branches lay fallen
Gathering a fire
Their ache in crimson
Stalking deliriously in vain
As their embers crackling
Reveal their pain
Unto heavens mocking above
Unaware they had turned surdomute
More than a long while ago.
Carnelian and crimsons orchestrate eye music
Ornate as orange oboes that blare a fiery woo
Loud in the hills, flaring flutes of maroon thrill,
Oscillating in burgundy trills of a breezy banjo
Red rises in volumes that the silent trees hear,
For they farewell warmth, in sun-setting relief,
Undulating in vermillion wavelengths an adieu,
Lingering long in mellowing yellows, autumnal
Free leaves wind-whorl a gold saxophone-puff
As apples blush in whistles of a taupe wisteria
Looping branches bare-brown in tuned annual
Love-fest festooned in earthen melody eternal
(9/14/18)
Brown – Your Eyes
Dark and rich
As nature
Color of the trees and soil
A hue of luminous browns
A blend of shadows in the sky
The color of your eyes
Gazing brings me deeper
As I descend into colors so rustic
Shades of taupe fading at dusk
Taking me deeper into your sight
Like twilight
Chocolate coffee
Galloping horses from Renaissance
Embroidered in a spectrum
A gallery of browns
Cover me like a gown
The colors of the earth
As in the chestnut tree
Where we sit
Your eyes find me
I surrender
To the splendor
Of your eyes
Margaret Franceschini (March 17, 2014)
Fire of timing
Lyrics shining
Unveiling the mining
Emotions rhyming
Rap to the beat
Feel his heat
Given a seat
His door is opening
He's only hoping
Don't be moping
His color isn't taupe
Don't give him a rope
That's not his soap
Reborn a phoenix
Into his mix
Get your fix
He won't nix
Colourification-- Vibgyor Romance.
Newly married,we flew in the valleys of Kashmir,
me,a man of words has promises to keep,
jetlegged,my slender,delicate ladylove rests,
the houseboat stirs with the bash of breeze,
moonlight magnolia tip toes to greet her,
mirthful lake dances with reflections of taupe trees,
incredible is my beauty queen,my flamingo in scarlet satin robe,
her malachite eyes hidden in her deep slumber,
her power rules over me,ever ready to dance to her tones,
me,so macho,sturdy yet so mellow,submissive,
chatreuse highlights of layered hair flap on her face partially,
fair skinned fingers get more radiant wearing the muave enamel,
wintry weather takes its toll on her fuchsia cheeks getting more dense,
lucky is the turquoise jardiniere on her bedside,
see,the naughty persimmon shellfish in the lake winks at me,
how i wish this moment could freeze,
for her evocative aura is more enchanting than her mould,
SHH! noisy ashy sandfly,my dulcimer,my romantic Ghazal sleeps.
Fiction
P.S...Tried something out of comfort zone..so plz excuse my mistakes.
Ghazal is an arabic name for females.It is also an arabic form of poetry.
1-white-magnolia 2- black-taupe 3-red-scarlet 4-green-malachite
5yellow-chatruese 6-purple-muave 7-pink-fuchsia 8-blue-turquoise
9-orange-persimmon 10-grey-ash.
Contest-Colourification
Sponsor :Silent One
15/03/2016
In the beginning it was chuckles, kisses and adoration
Your expression-smug, intense and bursting with admiration
I was the perfect blend of gilded taupe for your fixation
From a color palatte too vast and wide for your comprehension
Like the paint I was, I colored your life ensuring beautification
Of a crumbly house made of dough and eggs and putrefaction
Then one day you decided I was more the grey of the Great Depression
And the sentence worthy of my loving you was annihilation
So your love and care and company -gone! With no explanation!
Until with less regard for me than for a roach infestation
You left me out to dry in utter humiliation
Now as my tears have burned a path on my face, I feel a resolve in formation
A good sign of a new start from my soul exploration
Of my new found peace, my inner strength and utter elation
Of a life without you, much like a liberated nation
But just one thing before I head to my new destination
I wish you what you willed for me- god damnation!!
Alizarin azaleas
in the myrtle moss
where my flax feet cross
to the saffron sand,
in my magenta mind...
Beneath a cerulean sky
where the fuchsia fowl fly
to a haematic horizon
for true lavender love,
with my turquoise thoughts...
Ascending a viridian vortex
was my amaranth amour
with its vermilion vim
to your henna hands,
from my hazel heart...
Such silver sincerity
fades to xanadu xenon
as your damson dissent
shoves the taupe truth,
down my thistle throat...
Umber unanimity
in my wisteria world
has turned my crimson comfort so,
indigo.
Written In Beige
Against the bleak bank wall he leans
as the sidewalk moves sideways
across his tangential thoughts.
People pass, the dull parade,
the money-grubbers and hoarders
in their shiny suits that mock
his existence. Sad clouds meld
into a sullen gray sky…it must be raining
somewhere. Clink! Silver coin
rattles metal can. He wonders, when
did the colours disappear?
The pungent aroma from Mickey’s
Taco Wagon punishes his senses
and his eyes begin to leak. He’s hungry.
There was a time when his words
were golden, a rainbow of passion.
He had a family, people who loved him.
A November wind kicks him…no, wait!
Security guard motions as another
peers from behind motion-sensing
cameras. Not wanted. He disappears
next to the discoloured taupe wall.
The mystery: how did his life story
get written in beige?
*Note: this is written in honour of a homeless poet named Raimundo Arruda Sobrinho but, in essence, for every homeless person.
My leather glove is missing - now I only have one
It’s useless on it’s own when all is said and done
These gloves were precious to me, I’m sure you’ll understand
But I can’t leave the house with a glove just on one hand!
I discovered one single glove on the front seat of my car
The other one has gone astray - surely it can’t be far
So I’ve hunted high and I’ve hunted low
But my taupe leather glove is still a no show
Now I’ve found some similar gloves on E-bay
They’ll be here soon and will really make my day
*The gloves were an absolutely perfect fit - mum brought me them when we were in Dublin in 2010 - I will always have the memories but I am so sad at losing one glove
Jan Allison
19th April 2016
Arabia desert
Crème Brulee of land
Taupe color buildings in the desert
Mosul
Billowing taupe clouds, hunker down and hem in the Peninsula,
The morning rips open
A glimpse of sun shone; a lemon curd slivers between slits of of silver illumination
The first hint of light glances up frothing crests of salted foam,
Waves slap mineralized milky encrusted piers,
A place she never goes,
The boats, the ropes, salted misty chalky vapors
All a mockery of thematic proportions,
Unduly deliver a set, a scene,
In which a broken-hearted woman creaks about over well trodden planks
With a mystery in her eyes,
A coat two-sizes too big
And a hint of faded spicy cologne
Envelopes her unconscious, the odor she is unaware of
She perceives a mounted flaking, patinated iron harpoon mere décor
A prop on the set of this distant sea,
An artifact for ancient ways of hunting, the heart of the whale she knew was the size of twenty men.
Old men begin to mill about from the shore they amble toward the beauty and the death of the sea,
The lulling sea
A salve for old men, a balm to quell the roaring mind,
Clapboard sided sea worn boats rise and fall not of their own accord,
But as slaves to the the great sea, slaves to the sea
They carry metal traps, hemp ropes
And the unforgiving memories of the land,
“Landlubbers” she muses. A momentary countenance of mirth gleams in her eye.
Such a funny word. An erstwhile chuckle engages her lips as she knows now the seriousness of life, whereby in bygone times mother warned: “Love will make a mockery of us all”