Rhyme Color Poems | Examples
These Rhyme Color poems are examples of Color poems about Rhyme. These are the best examples of Color Rhyme poems written by international poets.
Autumn weeps green cascades,
bone chilled usher omen for blazing trail of hues,
as mint fades
fall colours bloom,
singed red, golden flare, plum purple,
bright plume
sharp cold,
warm spells breed tints
bold
Autumn weeps green cascades,
singed red, golden flare, plum purple,
bold
Red, yellow, brown and green
All colours will be seen
Love this time of year ~ fill your cup
Hot chocolate, hats , scarfs gloves cosy up
Log fires lite in gardens brings dazzled light
As days get shorter ~ blazing sight
Kicking leaves, roasting chestnuts magic in the air
Hazy summer screen drifts away,
satin cobalt sky exudes azure sapphire glow
of blue bay.
Autumn’s hues crawl,
trees create golden fresco, show
leaves fall.
Crowns of dew
on fawn grass grow
new.
Hazy summer screen drifts away,
trees create golden fresco show,
new.
Written: September 8, 2026, for a contest sponsored by: Mohan Chutani
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Spurred colors sown with care
the green yields to a crimson flush, heaven to dream
brave stride dare
wind weaves pale shroud
stoutly struck a spark in the stream!
thick cloud!
stare space
embrace gold gleam
grace!
spurred colors sown with care
stoutly struck a spark in the stream
grace!!
A dash of red
In the leaves,
Points ahead
To old long sleeves
Makes us smile
If only a few,
For mile after mile
A brilliant view
Most welcome sights
And darker darks,
Set off the brights
Like scattered sparks
A change begin
Simply excites,
Takes place when
All orange ignites
Back to September
We need you here,
One to remember
Year after year.
Autumn flies down on wings.
With a gamut of paints, turns green leaves into gold.
In joy, sings.
A true master-
With deft strokes, he changes the old.
Trickster.
On trees,
What hues unfold.
Wiz
Autumn flies down on wings.
With deft strokes, he changes the old.
Wiz
beneath the golden hues
lurks the befall of proud expanse of greens of yore
sun they chewed!
colour facade
gnawed warmth, melancholy gore
what fraud!!
In lust
of nature's core
dust!!!
beneath the golden hues
gnawed warmth, melancholy gore
dust!!!
I’ve written many forms of verse
Sometimes bad…sometimes worse
For poetry it seems….a curse
Word shopping with an empty purse
For years before I ever spoke
My poetic crayons broke
The dog ate two, several melted
Yet, without voice I truly felt it
By accident I wrote a Sonnet
‘bout an unseen passing comet
The colors set the page ablaze
In passage through the crayon phase
I now share on silent keys
My Crayola memories
Etched in ever-changing lies
For no one truly owns their skies
So be it crayon, keys, or pen
A search for forever’s now and then
Give thanks for crayon’s simple truth
The poet never outgrows youth
I strolled onto a forest glade
to hear a bird in concert serenade,
but when I heard him speak,
this issued from his beak,
"I'm not the bird you seek.
Some birds with pretty voices sing,
while those of broken heart and broken wing
have no worm on which to snack.
Some birds wear colors, bright,
and look so beautiful in flight,
while the hapless hit a wall and..."smack!".
But, I'm no such bird. This inky crow
(while there are birds that don't know which way to go,
in this world of birdy woe)
won't sing like Perry Co-MO,
or flaunt the colors of the rainbow.
I am the bird in black."
Paint your lips and your lashes
cloak yourself in perfume
Suit yourself, lady, ‘til the day of your doom
~ fresh paint fades fast in the tomb
Along the highway lovely lupins are seen
Vibrant pink, purple, and white interspersed amidst the green
Gently wavering to and fro with every passing car
A brief respite standing tall and bright
against the asphalts encroaching blight
Red that impedes people from moving
Extra step forward enticing
Dot in red, ceases everything
Yellow that warns and drums
Extra press on the pedal, burns and hums
Leeway to move forward like a wand
Left or right with your foot or hand
Or keep moving as told
Whine when you go beyond the line in bold
Go and keep going
Rev and ride on a Boeing
Exercise discipline and be alive
Exceeding (with caution) the gauge in the hive
Never surrender 'til you get there!
A sudden burst of painted glass
upon a gray and weathered stone.
They do not light within the grass,
but cling to secrets known to none.
Specks of orange, flecks of blue,
a torn and tattered canvas drawn.
across the morning's heavy dew,
as fragile as the breaking dawn.
No artist held a steady brush
to form this wild and fleeting art.
They came upon the forest hush;
painting on the woodlands heart.
A living mural on the bark,
alive and breathing to the eyes;
before they vanish in the dark;
a glorious graffiti of butterflies.
Looking out my bay-window,
I am feeling the new day and seeing colors of indigo.
The pretty indigo sky with big white fluffy clouds,
turning ominous and into dark thunderclouds.
My neighbors pretty garden of indigo flowers,
are getting a drink and much needed showers.
Domestic Bliss Is Feeling,
the love from living out doors is healing.
Domestic Bliss Is Seeing,
out my bay-window because it is freeing.
can you guess which pumpkin is mine? Barbie says to us.
No idea, lies Auntie Mame, Uncle Henry and my dog Gus.
I roll my hazel eyes at their pretensions, for next to the sink
lies a gorgeous long-lashed-eyed pumpkin completely in pink