Best Yellowness Poems
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.
Winter’s Wolf Wind
She smuggles her way to the window
watching daylight struggle through the curtains
to collapse on the floor… grey and lifeless.
Clouds like distant, dark thoughts,
slide secretively overhead
while she edges the window open
like a favoured page in a special book;
it allows the night’s story to begin.
She watches, entertained, as the dark
sneaks around like a thief in soft shoes
while a sudden scrape of moon
offers up a faint, pallid face
which, in turn, is swiftly wiped away.
She senses a change in the night…
and not for the better.
Silence, a chill, all still.… until….
Trees quiver, clouds scurry, the sea judders;
winter sends its wolf wind to scour the darkness.
The night nervously begins to skip up and down
as the wolf wind howls across the beach,
snapping at the mumbling, crumbling sand,
slapping, punching on the concrete walls,
bullying beach huts with butts of anger and frustration
while lightning, the night’s cat, scratches the sky.
Now the wolf wind’s almond, sharpened eyes
turn their chilling yellowness towards her;
coldly, boldly clawing its way to her house.
Her veins twist and twitch with apprehension,
as the wolf wind now snarls at her window,
forcing her to roll rapidly, snappily inside the curtain,
forcing her to tighten every sinew, every pore,
preventing the wolf wind creeping under her very skin.
Ian Souter
BROKEN FLOWERS
i.m. Ann, my sister 1947 – 1997)
Heads of fine purple strewn across cement
And yellowness heaped up in an airless room –
Travesties to which your heart’s golden fire-dust
Is an increment on pain. You asked
If the pretence of caring had now vanished,
Was it real now, under the cracked sky-line,
Like your memories dammed up under the rain.
Surely some vital drops will float
To pull your rootless beauties into holiness
Even as they die in a still vase –
There is no picture to quite stir the heart
As these fallen crowns, noble as the chalice
Of Gethsemane, which yet held the terrifying
Dark secrets of the world’s crime.
As you winter in your youth,
Beheaded flowers your beauty, your truth.
By Rosemarie Rowley
In a field of flowers,
Born she, a flower different from others.
Though a fragrant rose in the valley she wished to be,
Became she, a victim of inheritance by nature.
Though bright, broad, and colorful she seemed,
Strangest among the flocks she felt.
Majestic and tall she grew,
shooting up like a weed some thought.
pushed and pulled by the storms of peers,
drowned her youth in loneliness and sorrow.
In search of an unknown affection for so long,
She turned her petaled head to the one who captured her heart.
Though she's heard of the famous playboy,
bewitched by the charmer she became.
An infatuated lover she becomes,
Bathing in, the yellowness of his smile.
Hoping he will glance at her once,
Mad, she fell in love with the untamable lad.
Even in his fluctuating mood swings,
She longed for his teasing glances.
Tearful eyes drowned her jealousy
of his scandalous affairs with the Winds and rains.
Waiting patiently for his undivided attention,
Fading Horizons seemed endless.
The Nearing Autumn reminded her again and again,
her devotion must come to an end.
Forever Loyal to the playboy Apollo,
She etches his name in her soul.
Intoxicated with her lover, she loses her identity,
Sunflower, she became.
SUNFLOWER,
A symbol of unwavering loyalty and devotion.
Fly with small wings
To admire the serene sky
Hover the nice views
Wing lonely, afar
Recall scenic motherland
Colorful forest
Evergreen mountain
Clean, clear lakes and rivers
Yellowness rice field
Timberland in fire
The human deforestation
Vandalize the nests
The nest shattered
Will rebuild for surviving
Hold up with true song
Challenge all dangers
To keep the powerful mind
Confront the lubbers
Feathers stripped
And the wings and legs broken
Hold up with brave song
Fly with small wings
Stand tall with long-lasting song
Prevail tyranny
Two windows of reflections, two souls from long ago
past times collecting memories of the realities
beauty glowing in the shades of two eyes
simulations of young love unsettled still muffles
unspoken those words that sparked the journey
many tears before
yet the shadows of the past still resides
pieces of the mirror that damaged the heart
will in two days reconcile the pain sustained
two heart's buried treasures over the years
benches where before parked
still sores remembrance
of the kisses, the smiles, the wishes
written images of the times held in disguise
rejecting a once love never realized
the bright yellowness of the sun
the lights in the sky at night
ignited fires unextinguished in our desires
in just two days another journey begins
two once young hearts will finally mend
fences chosen to beguile the sins of the past
many years to reconcile blinded eyes
many lost uncertainties be stilled
two days to reconcile
two hearts from the past
two days to reconcile
two friends of tomorrow.
I had a dream last night,
Most beautiful dream of my life.
I saw you picking orange, red and yellow flowers in green fields.
I cried as I ran and wrapped myself around you in the yellow sun.
Droplets of tears of happiness shed on flowers’ faces,
Growing brighter in that warm, dewy yellowness.
Red, yellow petals wore a glorious smile as our hearts became one,
In fervent love, embraced close, casting stars on blue ripples of our brook.
Well I wonder!
What, which inspires?
The bathroom door that collides with the wind
And exposes its guest?
Or the gaping window that
Gives peeping space for my neighbor’s eyes?
Is it the thick dried browned soap foams
On marbled wall, painted white by
Colors of many years?
Is it the tiled surface floor
Whose yellowness is turning brown?
Or the morning cold Well water?
Is it its impact on the body
Lukewarm from the heat of the night
And residues of mosquitoes in the bloodstream?
Or a token blessing of seasonless patronage
Of the shrine of showerers?
Well, I wonder!
What which inspires?
When every morning in the bath
Songs dances, ideas run wild
And thoughts splash and flash
And poem like this
Find a space at the contours of my mind.
Unlike the moon, I can’t change.
His crackle that creams the dark
is ageless, his disposition sort of staining, to some,
he serpentines, constantly breathing like the sea.
I don’t want to hear his old song
that grows to a piercing shriek
but I can’t let him go.
Drier than an empty womb,
I lay beneath him, the living fossil,
entranced by his chalk dance,
wishing he’d bleach my yellowness white.
He unhatches, stripping from his shell
and opening like a frosted bud.
He thought I was wasting my beauty,
so he took it entirely. His arsenic face haunts me,
his ancient teeth gaping at me in mirrors and lakes
and I let him infect my sight
knowing that I can and will, no must, let him go.
Adei Aethiopia
O thy glory,tell to the highest
Thou hast secrets of thee testament
Glory glory to the highest
Thou hast blessings and yellow harvest.
Once in the yellow moon
Ye, once in the yellow moon
Omega hath thirteenth month
Alpha hath the beginning
Yellow carpets rise, Maskal birds singing.
Glory to thee yellow carpet
Yellow flowers hath yellow planet.
Praise thy yellowness,sing along glory
Bless thy yellow sun Merry! Merry! Merry!
Aethiopia O Adei
Adei O Aethiopia
Millenium Africa!!
Y
Yggdrasil
younglings
yobbishly
yohimbine
yammering yardsticks
year-round
yuppifying
yuppifies
yokefellow
yarborough
yellowtail Ypsilanti
yearningly
yellowback
yarmulkas
Yevtushenko
Yellowstone yachtswoman
yellowfin
yellowing
yearlings
yodellers
yearnings
yachtsmen yesterdays
yearbooks
yachtsman
youngberry
yarramans
yellowhead
yeastiest yardstick
yieldingly
youngling
yogyakarta
yoghourts
Yugoslavia yodelling
Youngstown
yarmulkes
yataghans
yawningly
yellowish
youthfully cowardly
yellowness
youngsters
yeastlike
youngness
Yiddish
yardmaster
yuppiedom youngster
Yaroslavl
Yellowknife
yellowcake
Yugoslavian
yuppified
Yorkshire
yellowest
yattering
yellowlegs
yesterdays
yeastiness
ytterbium
yesteryear
yardbirds
YouTubing
yellowwood
yellow-belly
Yucatan
yourselves
yabbering
Y words?
8/11/20
written word by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020 ©
Super special showiness
Unforgettable uniqueness
Natures nest
Favourite fresh
Loyalty, longevity loveliness
Optimism overflowing
Wonderful wooing
Eye catching, exploding happiness
Rich in yellowness
26th May 2021
Sunflower Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Malabika Ray Choudhury
You are the yellowness of Eve's red apple
You... the fire of mystery
Like a text without an audience
Like a transcript of a dream
Like a fantasy full of illusions
Like an undisturbed wave
Like running away...to a fantasy
You are the closest point to freezing
You are the most cursed spell
You are the most logical answer
For two parallel lines
You are a crossroads
Like the busiest intersection
Without any street or light
It's like getting lost..it didn't go in the same way
It's like a wolf's dream... with an open staircase
Full of answers and no questions
You are the main question
Sterilized from any fertilization
Pregnant from any sin
Like watching in a blind spot
Get pregnant, in a thoughtless moment
Scarier than ... being born in hell
More terrifying than... the formation of a sperm, too
You are the most magical hand of existence
Like a drunken free will
An excuse to graze
You are the stupidest excuse
with eyes like a bowl of blood...
Why are you sitting and watching me like this?
The highest wall of Hasha
The most crooked wall in Soraya
Your peace... all imaginary
Your words... are all empty
A meaningless and fake life
A pointless spin of the field course
Like breathing... without exhaling
It's like committing suicide in hell
Life is to be lived in death
Like frozen blood, it stops in the vein
Life was a stumbling block of its own
Maybe you were lucky not to be born
He plans and plans but nothing comes through.
The light isn't visible to him anymore.
Just a mere speck of yellowness.
Then something unplanned comes alive.
He finds true love.
His life is meant to be unplanned.
So he can find and unwrap the mystery and beauty inside.
I am a simple person
I move only in black and white
Dancing shadow on a wall
or light in the sky
Yellowness of Sunday on the other hand
makes me slow and motionless
Which drives me crazy and forces to write
Those faded sunny rays always seem to drain me
yet paint everything else
Just to color my mind with my own pounding blood
I move only when I am speechless
In black and white
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3nhjY4L8sf4
P.S. I know it's already been with another poem, but this man's music inspires me in so many ways. Wojciech Sieracki, thank you.