Best Watercolor Poems
The rain set me adrift inside a dream
My mind was on a painting miles upstream
An unforgotten "en plein" I once viewed
A light pastoral springtime interlude
Two horses, one snow white, one shiny black
Two barefoot boys in blue jeans ride bareback
Through pasture weeds bloomed orange almost red
White fluffy mountains loomed as thunderheads
A lightning bolt sends thunder through gray skies
The vivid colors blend in teary eyes
One brother's love becomes a blurry stain
Through windows streaked with rivulets of rain
From inside looking out my hourglass
I watched as nature painted winter's grass
Entranced from listening to her rhythmic rune
One April watercolor afternoon
by Daniel turner
Watercolor morning - once more
Pastel clouds linger
among springtime dreams,
sweet clover thistles
blush violet whispers
midst dew drops reflecting
peach blossom hues in
effervescent rainbows
against a canvas
of periwinkle skies,
while a pink chiffon glow in
bougainvillea brushstrokes
paints a brand new
watercolor morning
that we happily
share together…
once more
Good morning Soupers
upon the painted grains of sea
I posted dreams of a candy-cane
barely on the verge of belief, we
drown myself to sleep in a bed of insane
within the breathing skin of a canvas
you rub your brokenness into my heart
shallowly I drift to clean up the mess
that neither of us would ever start
She said.....
When you took the lover's moon
Out of my horizon....
You placed in in another woman's sky
Memories in teardrops.....
You've really got me crying.....
And they're staining everything in sight
Like a watercolor painting in the rain
What was oh so beautiful has made a sudden change
Once love runs down a face it will never be the same
Like a watercolor painting in the rain
I said.....
We can can have it painted over
Then, pick out a new frame....
So everything will be alright..
She said.....
I tried to call the artist
And the voice that answered...said
I'm sorry, but the painter died last night....
I guess that leaves our love like......
A watercolor painting in the rain
What was oh so beautiful, has made a sudden change
Once love runs down a face, it will never be the same
Like a watercolor painting in the rain
Just....a watercolor painting.......in the rain
Protected by copyright
All rights reserved
Pardon for fingers
Body painting my fixed face—
Marking up a scene
Of raw phantasms that look
Like they're falling for my tears.
Like watercolor pictures left out in the rain
Our colors have mingled,yet the originals still remain.
Two watercolor paintings without frames,
Became one picture over time,
Yet two of us still there.
Our colors blended naturally,
Now all the hues are shared.
I love your colors intermixed with mine:
Together they have made a new design.
A Watercolor picture painted by the rain,
We may go, but our Watercolor Love will still remain
heedless sky above
crystal mirror below
clouds float through
10. Jan . 2022
(Haiku- Basho style)
A Hiku Premier Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Brian Strand.
Falling asleep, you will see me –
faithful and yours for the claiming.
I won’t be asking, while caressing your sleep,
if we had been ever related.
Falling asleep, I will see you –
reaching concepts of piety, slowly sipping their taste:
and whatever we love, whatever we’re grieving
is becoming the same thing from which we are made.
The wind, scattering, rearranges the landscapes,
spilling into the spaces – no memory, no goal.
Wildly lifts us away, disobeying, abandoning –
watercolored, our faces merge in one vicious whole.
We can hardly inhale above waters pallid,
brooks are gasping for breath, underground, darkly fated.
Ageing elations and tearless eyelids –
we are born every morning defenseless and naked.
I am blessing the snow, silently shed,
as my footsteps back home are tracing their pattern
to questions that stretch to the morning ahead
and to love, getting worn out and tattered.
Wander in dreams through the valley of books,
Wuthering Heights, and the England of memories…
Twenty years old and in love, as you looked –
who do you think will always remember you?
Try to never look back to seasons and beckonings,
give your song to the world and release it.
Trust a passage that leads to the sea flowing endless,
and then walk on the shore. It is easy.
Translated from the Bulgarian by Diana Stefanova
Watercolor Kisses
Watercolor kisses
paint an azure canvas
atop a yawning horizon
in honeysuckle brushstrokes
and soft daffodil tints
as your lips touch mine
this wonderful morning
creating yet another
masterpiece on
my heart
Good Morning Soupers
Raindrops falling on windowpane
cloudy grey sky with lightning vein
Upon close look, a lilac hue
and tiny pockets found of blue
Rainy days tempt poets to write
of roses in bloom, stars at night;
of golden leaves as Autumn fades,
or shadows found in dappled shades
Dawn that breaks with pure golden skies,
adds crimson touch as a surprise.
deepened sunset paints scarlet hues,
touch of iris in purple-blues.
Nature's watercolor pages
filled with poems for the ages--
words that poets find to capture
nature's most glorious rapture.
Nature
April 1, 2022
form L-LAY New Poetry Contest
by Constance La France
How Many Syllables.com
FIRST PLACE!
On the horizon
a multicolored lightshow...
an ocean sunset.
11/17/2015
For the contest, Trashed #4, by Broken Wings
lord
i
can
still
hear
the
pitter patter
watercolor sounds
that
the
sweet rain make
upon
the ground
made from
the
watercolor rain
while
it
unearth me
towards heaven
Mom you can’t touch me anymore
Because at the end of the day
People are not poetry,
We cannot sing lies into coats anymore.
We cannot imagine wool out of cardboard
crayon boxes.
Mom,
Warmth is not warmth unless we let it be.
But now you’ve dressed me,
In a veneer of fluttering news articles
Depicting my loneliness,
I am still a child.
Well I am supposed to be.
I think.
Mom
People stopped being science experiments
They stopped swallowing the songbirds
that cracked open their rib cages.
They stopped making jam in their eyelids.
Mom.
Everything is bruised
Everything is bleeding
Mom.
No one can see through the stars.
I think
I’m blind.
I think it doesn’t matter how we cover our cheeks
You can still see our tears through it.
Mom.
My face is a watercolor painting in the rain,
popsicles left out in the sun ,
butter in a sauce pan
Mom.
I think I’m trying to find a million ways to tell you
That I’m melting
I’m crushing myself into the folds of my tongue
Mom
You can’t see me.
But I’m crying mom
I’m melting
The deepest blue sky
overlooks the calm water;
people stop and stare
as a golden masterpiece
emerges from my paintbrush.
For "Blue and Gold" contest sponsored by Rick Parise.
In a cobalt sky,
Embellished with pallid clouds:
Leaden geese fly home.
·
Migration arrow,
Sadly fades before my sight:
Recoiling farewells.
·
The smell of old rain,
A pale past dwells in my soul:
Cycles of my life.
______________
For Brian's Intervals Contest