Brown Color Poems | Examples
These Brown Color poems are examples of Color poems about Brown. These are the best examples of Color Brown poems written by international poets.
youre a red apple
the outside i devour in large, juicy bites
as much as my teeth can fit with all corners stretched wide
youd think to do the same at the core
But cracking bitterness brings seeds
scratch small bites, an itch
Jaw working, bony indents stiched
I like the way my tendons flex
Palm spread to grasp that hard fruit off the wiry stem
The core delicate
Slurping juice of whats left
The carcass melts into a brown sugar debt
Back to the earth you go to be reborn again
It was a mild autumn day
far enough from summer’s heat
awaiting winter’s cold bite
The brilliant shafts of sunlight
ignited the vibrant colors
of autumn’s falling leaves
I watched them as they fell
tumbling down
all around me
Like outrageously large confetti
every color
from vivid scarlet to warm brown
I ran through the leaves
tossed them in the cool air
then sat amongst them on the ground
Autumn was here
a feeling of joy came upon me
a smile crept across my face
My colors shift with every hour of the day—
most often brown, sometimes blue.
When fatigue sets in, I may turn yellow;
in moments of joy, I blush in shades of red.
I believed autumn had come when the cherry tree shed its leaves
and the flowers faded, even the hardy petunias nearing their end.
but a little water and fertilizer brought forth new colors:
white, red, pink, blue—each bloom reflecting my colors of the day.
Colors are reflection of my mood,
In the starry nights with black moon showing some life,
The silvery rays, shining stars, and stardust glow,
Makes my mind dazzle in the silvery glow.
In the winter snowy season,
Overwhelmed by snow and icicles around,
Although white prevails everywhere, joy and fun for many of us,
I would like to feel like a snowman, enjoying evergreen ferns, and a red carrot nose.
A cracked, lone brown leaf
Spiralling quickly downwards
Knows only the ground;
But in that motion exalts
As if a plunging falcon.
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Fallen, wind-blown leaves
Huddling against grey kerbstones
In abject neglect.
Already parks quieter...
Their iron railings more stark.
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The thick sap retreats
When gnarled bark tightens its grip
On inner heartwood;
Summer faded into nights...
Autumn, failing, covered all.
If I were a color, I'd imagine myself being bright
It wouldn't be brown, or yellow or white
It would be something kind of, like in-between
A pinkish/red, or a Orangish/dark green
Silver is too sparkly, and gold is too bold
Bronze' not too shabby, but it'll make me look old
Purple doesn't cut it, nor does a light blue
But I might like what color I am, if I mix the two
So, the color I'd be, is the color I'd get
If I mix purple and light blue, I would be violet
Don't talk to me
until I've had my coffee
Brown beans with a round and rich taste
provide an invigorating effect
I drink my morning coffee
with a clear conscience
A gentle start to the day
Coffee beans come in all scents and colors
- I'm brown and smell heavenly
I am brown, mixed from yellows, reds, and blues
Vibrant underneath but hidden from your views.
My colour brown can change within my hues
Some dark, some light, depends on what I choose.
Blended correctly many shades you'll see
Warm or cool my undertones can be.
Chocolate, beige, or tan to name just three
So many browns; and all of them are me.
I'm really versatile, in great demand
Because my colour spreads across our land.
Reminiscent of a doe
with a hue as rich as earth,
your gaze takes me home
to a cedar-filled hearth.
Welcoming like hot chocolate
and as vibrant as autumn's leaves,
your stare carries the life
that Mother Nature herself weaves.
Neutral, yet expressive—
as versatile as leather, but still so alive—
your eyes are the gemstones
favored by the sun and I alike.
I speak now, not with breath,
But through the bones of history,
Through palms that never bore fruit
Because your embargo starved the soil.
You feared not our weapons—
We had none to match your bombs.
You feared our ideas,
Because they burned too brightly in the dark.
Sixty-two winters and summers,
My people have walked in chains—
Not of iron,
But of isolation, hunger, and propaganda.
Is it a crime to dream in red?
Is dignity a sin,
When worn by brown hands
On a small island that refused to kneel?
You said it was freedom—
Yet you crushed us under boots
Stamped democracy,
Laced with hypocrisy.
Your friends—your “allies”—watched.
Some nodded.
Some traded,
And many sold their silence for your gold.
Fidel is gone,
But the embargo remains—
Like a ghost that haunts both jailer and prisoner,
A curse passed down by cold-hearted kings.
America, when the axis shifts,
And the sun of the global south rises—
What will your monuments say then?
What flag will you wave when truth takes the throne?
History is a patient god.
It watches.
It remembers.
And when it judges—
It does not ask permission.
Splish splash splash;
It is a colorful blash;
A brown leaf floats in a bathtub,
Does a leaf make noise, I doubt!!!
Yup!!! A little colorful leaf,
plunges into the bath;
Makes a sigh as a sign of relief;
Soon, other leaves join the path
Spattering the drops,
They do hop;
Here, over there,
And everywhere.
The leaves play, they giggle;
They spray , they wiggle;
They make fun, they relish;
O! I could be these leaves, I wish.
Hey! Wait!!!
How come the leaves look so cute!!!
Oh, they are Munias!!!
Scaly breasted Munias!!!
Like the splashes they splatter,
My worries they spatter
Cute little munchkin peers
Make me shed happy tears after years...
02-June-2025
They're smiling leniently don’t be silly
You can’t be apolitical these days
I’m smiling back I don’t trust them initially,
It doesn’t fall under a criminal offence
I’m fascinated by the incongruous lines
Just look at those familiar shapes, distorted
The early cubist paintings make them shine
Not blindingly, but just how you would want it
Ambiguous light of green and brown hues
Strict and fastidious lines, this is my politics
No one’s deprived, humiliated or abused
You’re in your favorite chair watching pics
It’s a spiritual job, not quite a passive leisure
Those pictures move in time can’t stay the same
They grow on you without any measure
Until your mind will get the best of frame
You hang out in the school of old escapers
The shooters cannot see us with their drone
Tomorrows ash deploy yesterdays papers
Don’t ask of yesterdays old girls – all gone.
The bright sunshine signalled a new
dawn,
Lazily, I stretched and yawned,
Not truly ready to face the day,
As I looked out of my window, my
neighbour shouted, it’s beautiful
today.
On a thin and fragile branch,
I noticed a Robin was resting his
feet,
A charmer he was , and to my eyes,
he was a treat,
His colourful coat was white, brown
and red,
Seeing him made me feel glad I had
gotten out of bed.
With his melodiously sweet trill,
the leaves on the trees seem to
flutter with his song,
Notes rise and fall and with the
gentle breeze, the branches swayed
in a rhythmic dance,
His tune filled the Spring air, and
not long, a female came along,
Witnessing their interactions was a
beautiful moment for me. Sometimes
in life, unexpectedly beautiful things
do happen by chance.
by Zyrool
Oh, my gosh, I’m freaking and feel such dread.
What the hay is this nonsense on my head?
I can’t go to work, can't enter the office!
I will be seen, visible to peers and bosses,
be the fool who provided entertainment gossip.
God, please, send help, I am stress-nauseous.
I do not care about appearing faultless,
but I'd rather errantly tuck a dress in my hose
and walk through the office cluelessly exposed
than have everyone think this is what I choose.
I wonder if I should call in with a case of ugly,
hire someone to gently, but effectively mug me?
Perhaps I'll get pulled and cuffed on the roadside
for publicly exposing the ugliest hair ever dyed.
Shame a wig class wasn't at business school:
"How to Avoid Looking Like the Office Fool."
I look like a horrified, horror movie hostess.
Even my own mirror is refusing to focus.
Here I am, paler than even fresh new snow,
with midnight black hair grooving to and fro.
My very first dye and, oh my, I could just die!
Box said ‘brown’, now I'm so down, I might cry.
Universe, please – send a natural disaster,
nothing fatal, it's just one repair day I’m after.
Easter egg hunt for little ones
In green grass under yellow sun
Laughs that grab hearts red sonnet
Bow ties brown eyes and pink bonnet
So cute toddler who picks up a rock
Doesn’t want the emerald egg on top
Another girl seems to fuchsia fear
Easter Bunny with floppy brown ears
Every one excited taking peach photos
Easter memories as valuable as gold
Tiny pink flower, so alone,
In verdant fields, how you've grown.
No hands to nourish, none to tend,
We all long for one faithful friend.
Just a single cloud in the sky,
Waiting for a mate to float by.
Grey rain gathered by sighing wind,
We all long for one faithful friend.
Brown pup struggles to thrive, to live,
All others lost, has love to give,
Must find that One's torn heart to mend.
We all long for one faithful friend.
She sat, lonely, while crowds rushed through.
Young hearts break so easily too.
Cold, wet nose, she looked down, grinned!
We all long for one faithful friend!