Best Tinted Poems
“The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts.”
Quote By: Marcus Aurelius
Tinted in hues that I never imagined
this pilgrim soul has ventured farther then ever before
together as one encumbered with deeds unexplained
claiming the winds of change as culprits and friends;
I plucked out strange thoughts like plums from a tree
thanking the summers of June for their warmth
choosing fruition of imagination over logical thought
and as the polar lights of my mind ignited,
I watched in childlike wonder as a levitation of color arose
in my heart .
this is a poem that reads the same forward and backwards transitioning in the middle. the setting is inside of a yellow corvette with yellow tinted windows.
You view yellow,
feel sensation.
Is energy floating freely?
Wrapped in ebony leather,
reflecting road is behind.
Vroom Vroom
behind is road
reflecting leather ebony.
In wrapped
freely floating
energy is sensation.
Feel yellow,
view you
Arriving softly, the opulence of night
Which exults an iridescent moonglow
As heaven flashes its tints with delight
To adorn the view… young stars in a row.
Against late dusk’s chasm, rustling are trees
Like silken plumes…warm gift from nature’s green
Caressed by impetus of a flamed breeze
Where no dark mockery can jar this scene.
And not vicarious is my affair
With love’s spark inviting another dance…
The blossoms wing around through glistened flair
When eves of August thrill, so does romance.
Written for Eight Word Challenge-8 Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton 8/29/2018
OH LAND OF TEN THOUSAND LAKES,
OF GREEN TREES OF NATURE,
AND SKY TINTED WATERS.
FIND YOUR SILENCE,
AND LISTEN TO THE LOONS,
OR HEAR THE WOLVES IN THE WOODS.
OH I LOVE YE, OUR LAND OF TEN THOUSAND LAKES,
MY NATIVE STATE,
MY HOME ALWAYS,
IN NATURE AND HEART.
THANK YOU MINNESOTA,
OUR LAND OF SKY TINTED WATERS.
-----------------------------------
WRITTEN BY, CHADWICK ANDREW VINCENT
JUNE 2015
Through tinted glass we see things
and the world is same as the tint.
The tint is no less than a sharp weapon
as shade that dictates the mind
and makes the heart skip its beat
and desire for shady things.
As rosy the tint is ,as of a rose
blissful and beautiful is the world,
and love is all around.
When the tone sets on the glass is grey,
gloomy,uncertaininty makes the mind stray.
Dark as black ,so are the emotions
osciallating between power to evil.
Many shades and colors to look through,
the world is as many shades u put on,
but still the glass/tint never gives the
picture as it is.
As the hue varies so does the aura.
The reality of realm strikes ,
when there is hardly any tint on the glass,
and also when there is no glass to look through.
Beautiful tint is the one which does not blur the picture
but clears out the cloudy mind
and lets you see a transparent heart.
Throw away the tinted glass and let your
soul be your eyes and heart be the guide.
PS:written on 13-3-2018
Edacious dreams were left to die,
but hunger doesn't fade away.
Sweet longings that pervade each day,
reminding that our hearts don’t lie.
The brilliance of the imageries
(not fading in intensity)
press to my thoughts deliciously -
rose-colored tinted memories.
Those dreams were never meant to be,
I fight their lure ferociously.
But nothing else, this want, appease -
rose-colored tinted memories.
```` ```` `
merry-go-round twigs
wiggling down rows of grasses…
summer petticoats
charcoal sands boling
Monet grass wears red-tanned shades…
bubbled tints on shore
(c)
double haiku
``````````
for Briand's Any Theme/Form
from nette onclaud
Aspiration's cry
motherhood and apple pie
in the morrow lie
Ah! For the sweet rose-tinted days
of endless spiraling time
when we bannister slid our way
to curving morning,
climbed through the rails
of adult strictures
out to own
our
unmapped course.
Allowed mere whim and fancy rein
to take us galloping where it would.
Chance ruled our day --
a horseshoe found for fishing luck
from each springing hour,
or daisy chained to minute's
fickle ways,
a swing on branch, a fall, lost shoe,
direction changing clouds
chased out of view.
We shooed our way
through strewn meadows;
daytime moths danced on
our wrists.
The way home
was forgotten.
I look at the world through dark-tinted glasses these days.
My eyes seek out the dreary and lost,
My shaking words ghosting comfort over the broken and betrayed.
I can't be blamed for the lonely way I gaze at life.
At such a young age, my life has been filled with too many misunderstood tragedies.
My body is a pastel painting of the battles I've fought.
My soul is an open diary of the hits this wary vessel has suffered; easily read if one would only care enough to try.
When obstacle after obstacle slam into us like waves, it is only natural to lose hope.
I've been told that hope is nothing more than a cruel red herring.
Designed to ease us into the comforting embrace of failure.
I kindly disagree.
Without hope, I would've surrendered my life to the demons that claw at my insides long ago.
Hope is the only reason I can proudly say I'm still standing.
You're strong. You say you want to dominate?
Will the take responsibility at hand?
For me a fragile creature. Radiate
The love and joy and take burden of demand?
For what I know it is male chauvinism.
To think superior, to chew, grind and hate.
Have you become adept to nihilism?
Instead of searching for a perfect dear mate?
It's no game for you. It's your idea
Of yourself, the world, the partner, perhaps, fate.
I'd curse you with worst of diarrhea.
I am sure it's something you can relate.
You want to make me a devoted *****
Without taking my concerns to the table.
I am no doormat but wicked witch.
You'd have to hear me out or else a stable
Of raging accusations might erupt.
Listen out my precious wants and kinky needs.
Don't like it? What a shame. Don't interrupt!
I would like to squander floor with tinted beads
For you to kneel and stand on all your fours
What do you feel? Humiliated like ****?
I will make the bed and I'll shut the doors.
Humiliating? Dirty? Another spit?
Why so and How could you go so little?
I can surely play but I want equal rights.
I'm smart and strong but I am brittle.
Take care of me and adore me. Then no fights
Are guaranteed for as long as lifetime.
I would gently love you back with all my might
I want to feel that I belong. You're mine.
I would clear your karma, sun will rise, the light
Is crawling back. Dim, reluctant, tender.
Take care of me, listen closely, pay respect.
I would serve my Master and surrender.
Finally I'd have no feelings to neglect.
Sepia-tinted season is on
You are yellow and red
Crunching leaves in the lawn
Soft sun on bed
You are yellow and red
As I pick apples
Soft sun on bed
Squirrels under maples
As I pick apples
In red-and-gold forest
Squirrels under maples
A Robin in your armrest
In red-and-gold forest
Snowy mist in air
A Robin in your armrest
A petal in your hair
Snowy mist in air
Gondola waits in the lake
A petal in your hair
Rich flavour of the cake
Gondola waits in the lake
String of verdant hillsides
Rich flavour of the cake
Evening playing with tides
String of verdant hillsides
October nip in air
Evening playing with tides
Melancholy eyes in the chair
October nip in air
Crunching leaves in the lawn
Melancholy eyes in the chair
Sepia-tainted season is on
-------------------------------
October 3, 2019
Poet's October Pantoum Cash Prize Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Yes, I know, it is all an illusion
The way my sun-like eyes see:
For these glasses paint in gold
The wreckage and ruin around me.
This may be the wrong way
To live my sorry life
Finding golden glimmers even as
I hold a glinting knife,
But the world that I see
Whenever I try to see what's real:
It is broken, dreary, dead,
Much I like how I feel
Whenever I wind up lost
In my supposed paradise
But find that my dreams have
Been devoured by demon lies
And realize that however hard I try
I'll never be able to redeem
The idyllic joy that once lay in
Every single one of my dreams.
So with my counterfeit view
Of this miserable land
At least, somehow, I can see
A kingdom so sunshine grand,
And at least, as I walk towards
The cliffs from where I shall die,
My last sight is the eternal proof
Of my beautiful lie---
Therapeutic thoughts have feelings
of resonance and dissonance
as healing behaviors have internal beliefs
motivating
inspiring spirited resilience
and passions for love
surpassing anger,
compassion
conquering all dispassions,
positive attraction
reconnecting past negative distractions.
Feelings have internal colors
compassionate green health environments
and narcissistic snarky red hot interiors
and radiant blue light
and absorbing yellow warmth,
and many multiculturing other hues
and cries for resonant ultra-violet peace
with black and white and brown restoring justice
not so much grey-scaled punishments
for too liberally
compassionately coloring outside
proper eco-political WinLose lines,
social walls of propriety
against impropriety of full-scale wildly imaginative colors.
When I heard Caillou's white-speak mother
inform her son,
Red is the correct Valentine's color of love,
I knew this could not be my whole virtuous enculturing story
because red is also the color of bloody fraternity
and viciously escalating anger,
Healthy passioned red
or short-flaring diseased fear
of overpowering betrayal,
losing power to overcome
threats to green therapeutic self-portrayal,
regenerative esteem
virtuously red-blooded,
Surrounded and benignly invaded
by green nature,
yellow absorbing internal blue heedfulness,
caution,
discerning nurtured feelings
attributed by more dissonant color relationships
said and sung in virtuously harmonious major,
and viciously dissonant minor, keys,
round co-relational octaves of color
revolving rhythmic qualities fueling flow,
Morally affluent yang prescriptions
with ethically effluent yin descriptors
of exterior green sanctuary natures
with interior red-blooded
DNA ultra-violet
communicating nonultra-violent
recycling nurture wheels
of resiliently felt therapeutic thoughts.
Blue is not awakening
Red is not alarming
Black is just Blah
I am fetching my rose tinted glasses
T'nite! Goodnight.