Let’s listen to songs in the language of play
From the Harts of our inner children
As Miranda’s dear reader chums.
The joy is in colouring in a crocodile,
Not whether you make a crocodile
Look like an accurate crocodile.
When you’re blue, colour a crocodile
Blue, too.
Twit twoo if you want to.
Who says you have to colour in a crocodile?
What about stamping little Harts onto the picture
Or picking stamp letters of your favourite words,
Spelling them haueva u onet oo.
Crocodile doesn’t seem like a word anymore -
I’ve been writing it so much.
I am grateful for understanding
In this life I’m trying to design…
that every now and then it is perfectly acceptable
to color outside the lines.
in my poems, sonada's
film depiction
your encouraged to lose
focus
tumble
race, give up and quit
especially quit
and the frame settles with you
about where it should be
in your life
did you buy into us
the hidden mystery
robbing you blind
in time, you may hear us
the tempos that won't shutter
we are open and the theater
wells and theater's portend to you
from before, we get to know eachother's painting in time
i ask for the silver screen and scratch, for the top
i deliver obviously for the style
for the style i died
trying to get back inside
#cinematography
Every day my nerves are shot
From the aching in my heart
Caused by the hostility
Between all humanity
Why is everyone so vengeful
Times the only way to tell
If we can turn hate away
A little bit more each day
Until we wake up and find
A world that is caring and kind
Full of love that doesn't fade
Look at what we could create
If everyone took a piece
Of there heart -- let it release
A rainbow full of colored faith
Making this world a better place
A bountiful array presents itself,
From its constant electro-magnetic display.
With a spectrum of rebounding wavelengths,
And a variety of colorful todays.
This multitude of color gives us boundaries,
From the infra-red to ultra-violet.
Providing our perception with stubborn stop
Signs, as viewing beyond does not permit.
Within these limits of our vision, we're
Left with a plentiful bunch to describe.
As they are exposed through a lexicon of
Meanings, by cliche or slang rhetoric to bribe.
So while black and white are constant borders,
We go well beyond those 50 shades of grey.
With thoughts of golden parachutes and
Silver linings, granting hope to us everyday.
When the entire menu is looked upon, we've
Learned that the primary ones create most.
Whereas red and blue get used politically,
Yellow is cowardly and cautious from coast to coast.
Since there's no way to see the complete palette,
To explain all the mixtures nature has seen.
Rest assured that the fusion & various combinations,
Leaves a remnant of beauty and envy that's green.
Yonder hills
are covered with an array of flowers,
we may only see this once
when our eyes are neither closed nor open.
Those far trees are as green as the sea
when the sun is low in the water,
or perhaps
beneath the sea-green
they are
as multihued as any rainbow.
We perceive only
their imperfect reflections -
eyes deceive and the world
is upside down.
All mountains are aquamarine blue
whether covered in ice or not,
this we may want to be true
or deny,
yet truth is a glimpse into a window
that we first must open.
Unfortunately, we have long since
painted this world,
with a blind artists brush.
Vision comes
when the light of the mind
is brighter than that which is seen.
“Tee is tard to under-tand,” she tells me.
She is a bit difficult to understand herself.
I suspect she might need speech services.
“T’s married to my gandma; t’s my gandpa-in-law.”
It is really difficult for me to keep my face straight now.
But I do. I have had decades of experience doing it.
Her front teeth are missing, perfectly okay for age six.
I smile at her. She gives me that big double gap grin.
I wonder what other family business she will be telling me.
Okay, here it comes.
A story about Uncle Willy the fee-loader.
This is getting good.
I hand her a new coloring sheet.
This is the key to unlocking the rest of the story.
“Tee takes and takes and takes,” she says.
I smile.
She has stopped crying now.
That was the goal of sending her to me.
I am the elementary school counselor.
When life bites and strikes stress deep within,
my escape options will start to spin.
I require an outlet for relief.
A personal lift aids this belief.
Constantly close is my favored vice
for it soothes me and is low in price.
My vice doesn’t manifest paradise,
but soft peace that eases my weary eyes.
Coloring books and pretty crayons
are my way to escape rough ground.
My drawing vice won’t harm my body.
I’ve never colored and felt sorry.
Coloring creates calm so stress flees.
My adored vice is passion that frees.
This vice soothes the child within my heart
and it prods fears to quickly depart.
When I’m not home and must sleep away,
I’ll tote my vice to assist my stay...
At night, my vice sets a snug-sleep stage
if first I color one stiff, strong page.
I intend color the globe with a mind
naturally
colored by rainbow...
With my hand inspired by bluish sky
that provides me shelter,
I write a poem
of hope for Future yet
beardless... using
all expectation
of believer with
my green
verve...!
Passionate purple and scarlet vibrate
Through my veins, dancing light
Across my spirit, warm and bright
Like a healing hand, caressing my soul
Stanza taken from Coloring my World
for Gregory R Barden's Liberum Divisa 5 Poetry Contest
April 17, 2021
an amused lilt adorns two crimson lips
with a first glimpse into the deep saffron sunset of eve
crystalline aquamarine pools cast a gaze
taking delight in this time escaped
wisps of your lemon gilded hair flee their bindings
as we steal into the lilac-hued fields of night
hand in hand, we behold the tangerine arc of the graceful sun
slipping into peaceful slumber 'neath a blanket of hillside
ne'er before seen guileless beauty follows
in the appearance of distilled magical faerie light:
auroras floating by in lavender and chartreuse swirls
across the charcoal painted skies
twinkling coral celestials reign overhead
smiling upon our watermelon shaded cheeks
from chilled whispering words of ardor
breezing by in this, our color-breathed eventide
(4/6/2021)
Poetry Contest: Changing Colors
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Keeping my coloring
In hues of the softest
Black and white
Always inside the lines
Where I can see
The reflection of reticence
Tempering the brilliance
Of lively, dancing
Colors, bold and vivid
Awakening the spirit
To dreams that are colored
Like scarlet, cobalt
And violet thoughts
Whispering an elaborate
Plan for senses
That bless our hearts
With light so bright
It echoes into our souls
Warming the music
To agree with our feelings
And believe in
A sense of overwhelming
Compassion and faith
Hope that lasts
Through all the grace
Rising to the surface
On rivers of longing, heartbreak
So yearning that it feels
Like those lines, so tidy
Will survive the curving colors
Of passion, promise, praise
Instilled inside one who knows
The freedom of letting go
And letting God
Allowing you to color
Outside those dark lines
That hide the heart’s longings
For a more brilliant hue
Of hope, faith and love
That inspires the truth
To awaken in a sanction
Sent down from heaven
Through a grace
That is God’s blessing
Our salvation
The mystery of mercy
I wish I liked coloring books
For my hobby might be cheaper,
but it is not for I adore creating on canvases
and painting them with acrylic paints.
My nine year old granddaughter
started this obsession by begging me to paint with her.
I did not want to “waste” a canvas that day.
Six years later I have five hundred canvases,
none wasted. Each full of my cartoon women.
Soldier women, warrior women, pirate women,
witches, faeries, hippies, angels, dancers, singers,
moms, little girls, Native Americans, black women,
brown women, beige women, pink women
I have filled my rooms with neon colors, and black lights.
My creations smile from every corner of my home.
I took down the family photos and replaced them
with my cartoon women. It is more than a hobby.
It is my obsession.
The green song of Spring. A coloring book - the pages fluttering.
Pastel azaleas blooming. Violet hyacinths hug a vertical space.
Lemony tulips with lavish leaves. Iris cycloglossa ~ lilac, yellow, blue.
A felicitous field of larkspur. Petrichor and dewdrop bliss. Sunkisst!
4/3/2020
~ Coloring Is Fun ~
( Whitney's Kiss )
Coloring
Books, are great fun
So many
Are to choose from
Just awesome!
For all moods, taste
Get one, two, three, maybe more
Color away, sky, indoor
It's much fun. Learn,
Pick Colors
I just love it
Soothe mind, soul
Relieve your stress
Books bring joy.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2018
January.16.2020
'Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.'
- Mark Twain-
~Author's Notes:
The "Whitney’s Kiss " is a poetry form or style created by Janet Vick.
It is 14 lines with syllable counts of 3,4,3,4,3,4,7,7,4,3,4,3,4,3. The 7 syllable lines rhyme. Any subject.
"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power."
- Abraham Lincoln -
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