Box Poems - Poems about Box

When I look back ’pon a life, monochrome A black and white me in a world of grey How colour free were the streets I would roam When dull, then dark was the path of my day In that pencil sketch within which I dwelt I could not predict as the grey grew late… The glint in your eye, a...

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I find a box of crayons on a desk. At different colors I take a look. I think of each color as picaresque - as something or somebody in a book. Three blues I see, such as blue-violet. Blue-green might be a sailor’s home at sea. Blue-violet could be a girl he’d met. Purple is sky darkened, making him flee. Although their...

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When days of dreary tropes could feel no duller, and gray heavens escape my pencil’s reach, —oh misery!, it can’t be set to speech,— my crayon box dreams of unbridled color! When weeks waste precious hues for wanton squalor, my paintings doning the pale death of bleach, —or worse!—, if poetry can no more teach,— my crayon box prays for fuller color! Woe!Woe!Woe!—unto...

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Written: May 27, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Miranda Hawley **************** Colorful crayons, the dreams of my choice, Chalk, white, and red allergens hurt my voice. Young hearts overflow with pristine...

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Crayon Box Dreams started song of my life. Song sung from carefree innocent childhood. Mellifluous music, I couldn’t wipe. That ran in prelude-interlude-postlude. Childhood passed, entered in adolescence. World extended, becoming brighter broader. Life spreading scattering different essences. ...

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My mind is home to millions of my dreams, The way a box holds colorful crayons, Little ones that are bursting at the seams, To the biggest ones I need to pray on. The happy ones are all shades of yellow, And the saddest ones are colored in blue, Even though most of my dreams are mellow, Some dreams are so big...

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The fate of a crayon, it waxes and wanes, From the engrossing grip of an artist's hand, To a still life framed in a box of chains, Where unmade strokes are jailed till scanned. The sky was never cast so blue of hue. The grass and trees so blushed with green. The sun so brightly yellow and true. Than when crayon pastels...

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Small wax sticks wait in their neat, bright row, A simple paper lies out on the table. With happy hands, new pictures then will grow, A brand new world, both sweet and truly fable. A green hill rises, and a sky of blue, A yellow sun shines brightly in the air. Each color holds a promise, fresh and true, No worries found,...

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I like to dream in bright crayon color, no brown, black, or orange pigments for me; blue, green, purple, yellow, technicolor, and turquoise blue and green like the vast sea. As a child I liked all the hues of green, and blue was very calming to my soul; so those greens and blues are found in my dream, and in my...

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A box of crayons new and ready waits to block the yelling sounds outside the door. The dreams a hundred color box creates erase those sounds while I draw on the floor. The shouting disappears, replaced by peace when I draw a new dress for my poor doll. Carefully, I choose a hue of cerise. She'll feel so much...

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"Nothing changes but the date on the calendar." By Poet We love our pretty calendars holding our favorite pictures. Many pictures of cute animals, some of majestic land or sea views. Each month changes with new pictures to enjoy. We circle the dates we need to remember, never wanting to forget our appointments or events. I like to...

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Cold, warm, horrifying, inviting Grinding away at the last pink and grey pustules pooling at the bottom of my Skull Gods own light pushes and claws helplessly against thin nylon Its primordial importance Toppled by billions and billions of bright bulbs Burning and boring into my eyeballs Spiralling and spiralling down an...

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I was grateful for the love of family and friends But I was longing to hear your voice just once again Then I came upon a box that I had not seen There was a note that read ‘just a few keepsakes to you-from me’ I would recognize that handwriting anywhere It was from you, my beloved my dear I...

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Introducing... BoneTone™ Music Box! Tired of basic playlists? Want music with soul -- and possibly a few spirits? Crank open your ancestral vault with the BoneTone™ Music Box-- the only music box infused with generational trauma and hauntingly beautiful harmony. One gentle twist and you'll hear: A waltz from your great-great-great aunt (who may or may not have been a pirate). A lullaby from...

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Time’s long strands, a play box of sand. Young & strong, won’t spare a thought. Taut flesh frowns on a wrinkled hand. Time’s long strands, a play box of sand. Isn't a head that remembers how to stand better than a head alone, black in each spot? Time’s long strands, a play box of sand. ...

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