Best Yellow(A) Poems
March flower daffodil, canary yellow, a single bloom with the vernal equinox
Aquamarine birthstone, gift thyself a ring this birthday, wrapped in a jewel box
Romans marched on, this month they named after God of War, Mars, mythology
Caesar, Julius’s downfall 44 BC, oracle warns “Beware the ides of March” 15th
History has Texas no longer Mexico the 2nd of 1836, Independence of Lonestar
Mad as a March hare! The full Worm Moon peaks illumination the 25th afar
Animals mate, larva of worm thaw and emerge from hiding, and birds migrate
During Lenten abstain from meat on Fridays, give alms, read Sacred Scripture
NCAA March Madness kicks into gear, basketball fan’s cheer the lively picture
Easter, 31st Good Friday 29th, Palm Sunday, Purim 24th, and Ramadan on 11th
Saint Patrick’s is celebrated the 17th we're a wee bit Irish, if only for the day
Spring arrives on 19th, Daylight Savings on 10th set clock, spring forward we say
The wind rose early with the busying dawn;
And, rushing into the long avenue of beech -
Laid down years ago to accommodate labouring feet -
Began to scatter over neatly cut verge and lawns
With its own inimitable unruly gust, blow and fuss...
Within a cascading maelstrom of vivid bright yellowness.
Against strong trunks, held firm by steadfast roots,
Groans from creaking boughs as they upwardly heaved
Upon frantically thrashing branches showering
rusted, golden leaves;
Carpeting the rough stones below my trampling boots.
A mad kaleidoscope of leaping, swirling, skipping
colour
Where, as a child, I had once rediscovered...
Two green sandstone gate pillars sat well back
That ushered me under this arched, canopied track.
"Colorful language is the best way to recreate the incident as it happened and to picture it for the audience". Dale Carnegie
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O, colors, enthrall us through their splendor
Infuse the mundane world with vivid shades
Dazzle with hues and send a melody so tender,
No harp plays a role in tunes or serenades.
Lush velvet stains lips and hands with blackberry
Ripe grapes drenched in bright, blithesome lands
A colorful kaleidoscope lies in a flower vase—airy,
A sparkle that imbues the shadows and expands.
Olive and amber—ripening akin to wheat,
Grating upon nerves, a symphony so sweet
I love color, from flaming reds to vivid greens.
Royals flaunt purple, a sight that sheens.
Flaming reds and vivid greens—I adore
Royal flaunting purples, I simply can't ignore.
If I were the color blue, I would sing a halcyon song.
Leave you frantic—recalling your youth for days long.
I hold my breath as sapphire skies spread.
Vast quietude, serene—filling my head
Rainbows, prisms—tinsel glitter galore,
A wheat harvest of yellow—a sight to adore
Ripples and runs—floats and flies,
Subtle shades and sheen, colors that mesmerize.
Crimson and azure—glowing with grace,
The purity of white is a vague oasis to embrace.
A streak of gray brought heaven to earth
Crackled turquoise, vivid glow of calm sea worth,
As a slow hawk stoops—prey in the deep,
The sunflower droops; a lazy wave creeps.
The wind sleeps—swirling in dazzling links,
And loops, creating a symphony that never sinks
The crickets chime their pauseless rhyme,
And the colors run—toward the sun climb.
Before the wind feet, in the wheat, they stun.
The green of elms—a sage discourse troll,
Hemlock green, oaks, and juniper trees spun,
A color symphony, one actor—this world scrolls,
A never-ending show of beauty and poetry.
Crafting a lasting metaphor of beat and symmetry
A magnificent show of shadows and brightness.
O, hues, how you seduce my air with lightness.
Standing outside, I could sense it coming
like before. The air thick, still, birds
stopped singing. The sky, a jaundiced
yellow, a sickly color about to run its
course. Always wondering "will this be the
funnel cloud that takes everything away?"
Frantically, I've tried to fill a tiny bucket list
I made just for her:
Picnics to remember
Special photos framed
Comfort meals from her past
Sounds of her great grandchildren
squeeling at their birthday parties
I love you's more frequent than before
The last storm, the third we've faced,
had outcomes we were familiar with-
Tree limbs down
Electric lines dangling
Power out
But we were lucky, neighbors helped with
clean-up, power was restored, we could
get around, just a little slower.
Now I feel it coming again, that same
sickly yellow. I busy myself with
household distractions-
Move the pictures on the wall
Write this poem
Shuffle my mementos
Something catches my ear-
A few heavy raindrops
Begin
To
Fall
Moms
had
another
stroke
02/09/14
© All Rights Reserved
Yellow represents happiness and fun--
yellow brightens your day with the sun.
Yellow can reverse a sad day’s melody,
yellow can zap away your melancholy.
Yellow ribbons hope for a warrior’s return,
yellow heat from the fire where it burns.
Yellow roses for friendship and new beginnings,
yellow music from canaries singing.
Yellow--the sour taste of lemon in my mouth,
yellow--a sweet taste of peach from the South.
Yellow butter slides across my toast,
yellow champagne bubbles tickle my nose.
Yellow diamonds brighten the night sky,
yellow moonbeams wish you goodnight.
Alesia Leach © 2/2015
The way he gazes at the moon,
Doesn't quite feel right; every day he has a different tune.
I envy his starlight, the perfect fit for a groom
The kind that doesn't find a reason to fight
With much passion, I was drawn by his spiritual side,
Putting on a show with his flamboyant stride
Like a jewel, he sparkles brighter than 100 years of TWILIGHT
Without a remedy for fading away, I see no reason to stray
He has never shown an ego larger than mine.
Nor a side that needs to conceal how he feels inside.
For some reason, in this relationship, "I'm Always Right."
With my narcissistic personality, he complements my OCD.
When he dreams and closes his eyes,
I can sense and envision __ sunrise
Gorgeous, like a rainbow at any given moment
He's every fantasy come true, nevertheless, too good to be straight...
When he holds my hand, he wears a smile that lifts every mood.
This feels like heaven in any LGBTQ book everything feels good
No straight man gives a grin with every given look
With boundless joy and passion, sometimes I feel he fell from above.
Involved romantically, everything one might dream of.
The hues he wears are not of my yesteryear.
Vivid yellow, a reminder to himself of how happy life should be.
When he buys flowers, one can feel he's in love.
Not in love with me, but his unending SANITY.
Every night, he sits and shares his lovely poetic verses,
delightful between every course, he has me under a curse
Always writing about butterflies and Cloud Nine.
I won't mention his sensitive side, which is more intense than mine.
When we talk on the phone, I can feel the pleasure in his tone
Life with him feels like a novel; everything about him feels unreal.
It's surreal, sometimes I feel Danielle Steel wrote his fictional character
What if he's merely an angel in disguise? This would explain everything
Nevertheless!!! As my mother used to say
If he seems too good to be true, then he must be gay.
I could tell you who I am,
But I'm petrified of opening up.
Why am I terrified of pouring like a river?
I wonder what mountains gave me such shame.
But you'll forever live,
Within the cracks of some beating heart,
I wonder,
If the first stab of heartbreak,
Was the same shades to you,
Purple, yellow, a tinge of pink.
What is the melancholy in salt?
For it resides in all endless things-
-Tears and oceans.
-By Pavika
Yellow flowers pull the eye into the yellow sunset.
It's as yellow a yellow, I think, that any yellow could get.
As yellow as a dandelion or a glass of lemonade,
Or as yellow as my little dress, my loving mama made.
Written 3/3/16
Inspired by picture #2
His hair was yellow, a piece of straw
sticking out the side every which a way
standing tall and mute, not a word; just looking cute.
life's problems not being faced
left to their own, unattended, drifting
like a straw cast in the wind,
wonder why this is considered a sin?
heartaches and worries all about, you see -
but no one to solve them, but you and me.
that's all around us do we see
straw men and problems
left for you and me.
things get solved by doing and sometimes failing
not by standing tall, mute and cute
mistakes are made
lessons are learned
trial and error
sometimes we get burned,
that's how to face the world that we see;
not being a straw man, but working together...just you and me.
Crap smells really bad no matter the shape or the color
Maybe black, brown, white, yellow, a woman or a feller
Don’t judge a book by it’s cover when you are the smeller
Crimson or claret she just can't decide
Red or deep pink her mind won't be made
A different scheme colour could be the answer
A yellow, a green or a floral pattern
She's so indecisive, I hear her call
"What should I go for", so I make a retort
"Whatever you like, you choose the paint
they're only your nails, for god's holy sake"
There he hangs amidst his bunch,
tempting me to have him for dinner,
filling me with guilt about how I feel
about this living thing with its yellow skin.
My Buick’s also yellow, a sight to see.
It was bought almost new in 2001.
The car covers the miles like a rocket ethereal,
the banana’s king sliced atop a bowl of oatmeal.
My Buick is a world-beating car,
the banana in the night is a shining comet.
I love them both dearly
and worship them annually.
Don’t Worry Love
The hot redness of her face, as if Mars,
Surrounded by flashy yellow a-bright;
And pure snow clouds dancing, chastefully, light.
Orbit’s blush and puppy love eyes with stars.
Latterly, bestie speaks it out loudly.
A sudden volcanic moon of madness
dries her throat, a disruption of sadness.
Virginal countenance, burning brightly.
Then her crush softly grabs her hand in his.
“Don’t worry love. Let’s step outside,” he croons.
She is startled - her cheeks begin to swoon.
Fresh air cools her down. She enjoys the chills.
The robins sings of lovely things - knees weak,
as he brushes a kiss upon her cheek.
Yellow, a sunny color -
bittersweet brightness of life.
Wild dandelion its flower,
brilliant in grandson’s eyes.
Watching the Summer spin,
fragile twirling and bend.
Pandemic’s Kindergartner plucks bouquet -
tenders it to grandma.
Isolation had its moments -
streets with no cars,
chasing a lemon butterfly.
“Oh, it flied away.”
His skateboard in pause,
as our lives were,
but in home’s vase,
weeds quickly passed away.
Carnation Yellow - A Haiku
sunshiny sunlight
shall carnation yellow flies
pollinates the bee
beauty to the eyes
good smells aroma so nice
carnation yellow
6/7/19