Best Yellowy Poems

Hereabouts the thinning glades
Of sparse grey Birches:
Brackens crisp copper tresses 
All aglow;
Gently waking Snowdrops
Lift their sleepy heads
From leafy beds of woodland moil,
When tucked snugly up,
Out of intrusive sight and just 
Below.

Fondly the slowing bend
Hugs upon the river...
Banked heavily with frosted 
Bulrushes
That shifting breezes once did...

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Listen to the whispering's of the unhushed winds gently echoing,
Ever so softly swaying, as through a tender exhaled breath of warmth,
Delicately reawakening mother earth from winters hibernating sleep,
Broken, shattered is the frozen icy spell of polar enchantment.
The dreaming empress of springtime stirs, underneath her shifting
Melting...

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Alone I arrive, walking from Frederick
over the gaps, across gentle hills
out onto a knoll
overlooking this burnished landscape.
Before me I see countless writhing rows
of indiscernible shapes gathered
in terrible rituals mid fire and smoke
darkening the sun.
From distant corners I hear
the rhythmic thud of cannon,
and from fields astir...

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 The hope of the living

None would hope, like a destitute, by the roadside to rot,
With their eyes and other vitals, by the vultures pecked out,
Oozing a cocktail of body fluids, unsightly like yellowy snot,
And their putrid stench pervading the air, around and about.

But, most...

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Create Life Colour Me
Once upon a barren time, in the days of silent film
Colour code gene was lacking, across the whole wide world
Everything was blackybobs, mattish white and gray
Blackness was the nightiness and whiteness was the day

Then one day, a thunderous storm a thunderous storm...

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I have lay dormant for too long now
slept in the shadows,undiscovered.
Until the all knowing mind and
excited eye of a Masai shepherd
extracts me from my mountainous shell.
From ultramarine to lilacy violet,
christened the Blue Zoisite
Adopted by Tiffany who cried in despair
'It sounds too much like suicide'
Renamed Tanzanite,...

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Living

Paddling through life’s strong currents
Untitled my existence

A name means not much on Tuesday
Maybe more on Sunday
Or less
A tear defines a being?
How many, how strong, how real.

Feeling exasperated by negativity
Chasing feelings of divinity

Yelling yelling yelling
to the world 
but the noise is confined to my head
little head...

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Once upon a time, in the days of silent film
Colour was banned in the whole wide world
Everything was black, white and grey
Black was night and white was day

Then one day, there was a storm so strong
Thunder and lightning crashed on Earth for long
When it cleared,...

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sitting
there
looking
like
something
of
a sunrise
pine 
cone
all
yellowy
&
as if it was
dipped
in 
ruby
red
grapefruit
juice
it
smiles
at 
you 
with
the 
gritty
gross
intent
of 
a 
priest
about
to
break
all
his
vows
&
while
the
aptly
named
prayer
plant
of 
the 
forest
offers
up
those
same
shallow
little
nothings
for
all 
the
other
plant
life
to 
drown
in,
that
is 
no
reason
to
condemn
it 
for 
being
perty....

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My mother was a life-long keeper of photo albums. 
She had several of them saved from her youth 
filled with black and white faded to yellowy-grey 
family photos of long-dead relatives 
posed around a new grave or 
an infant in a tiny coffin,  ...

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Blue rainbow in the sky
It is such a beautiful day
In this colorful rainbow
you can see all the colors
blue and white and green and red
so yellowy,  kind of...

So, the sky you wrote
So, the sky you blew
Blue sky, you heavens, blue....

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She turned to the sunlight  And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:  “Winter is dead.”
—A. A. Milne

Y our old-fashioned lemony pie
E specially with meringue
L uxurious curd of citrusy yellow
L ight hue that exudes energy
O stentatious and tempting dessert
W insome jaunty, yellowy,...

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Down by the soily brook they go, under the woody bridge. 
The Featherly Elfins make their home to hide from the Blustery Fridge.
Made of snow and windy blow, icesickles in his hair,
he comes to still the Valleyville, blowing crystals in the air. 

The Elfins chug...

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In this world, everyone looks at it
for it controls all of our life
from day of birth till one's last breath
it can't be cut not even by a knife

This comes in many a colour
being yellowy fear in one's work
for bad timekeepers soon found out
so out the...

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Silent Trumpets.
.
The yellowy trumpets 
In great abundance
Are blown but make no sound
The crowds of blue bells remain silent
Without ringing 
 Upon the shady ground
All so quiet
But their showy colors shout out aloud
To the heart of the observer  
As they in all their glory
Wave back...

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