Settled to watch, inspired by that instant moment,
While seconds send raptures as I gaze all alone.
When day melts into night, a regal bestowment.
Lights begin to shimmer, it softly nears twilight.
The soft gentle perfume of wafts nature's cologne.
The horizon creates a radiance so bright.
This magic captured with a deepest ruby hue.
The artist's kaleidoscope of warm colors shown,
Detailing exquisite soft crimsons etched in view.
Streams of color blend seamlessly in swirls of light.
Brilliant tapestries nature has carefully sewn.
Heavily embossed across the sky, birds in flight.
Now sunset’s glowing color of crimson and gold,
With a sweetness, and a warm tranquil overtone.
As night’s velvety blanket begins to unfold.
Whispering breeze wafting gently, flickers a scent.
Nestled snugly, caressed by joy I've never known.
Evokes aromatic bursts, earthy by intent.
Oil spread across blank canvases
W
i
l
d
reigning over the smudges I tossed
crimsons and violets and fuchsias galore...
merging together to form a tree bark hue
the deepening browns often relate the most~
unique and fertile as the shades can ever become
wild and bitter like lattes blended with vanilla
down to earth and relaxed as a warm light source
making my skin go reddened and vibrant
like parakeets nesting in trunks and serenading
or moss clinging to nearby marble, discovering a home
sort of like a fashion statement, a mild accessory
but these browns won't linger in silhouettes
just keep me pacified and add to soft ambiance
while aiding to the beauty of belonging
and the silkiness of softness which surrounds us~
I'm frostbitten summer-smoke,
a pensive
p r i n ce s s ~
pressed in the cold satin streaks of
Brontë-butterflies,
dying at the edge of awakening,
through the voiceless ruffles
of electric blue lies ~
where haunt and hiraeth are heard
in the gold-spawn scales of snake green sighs...
there, while I pay homage
in the temple of torment
singing a siren ~
shaped in the requiem of revenge,
the sun cries in cawing crimsons
as I keep sketching you
in ominous o
u
t lines ~
wearing the nonchalant noose
of raven rictameters...
but you still break like the weather,
and b
l e
e d
into the veins
of cathartic rivers,
becoming the unshakable sky,
I could never reach...
and I still remain the unholy scent
of Medusa-tongued bouquet,
mourning upon your casket...
We are ~
nefarious naughts
knotted
in the throat of kismet,
we are ~
the criminalised catastrophé
masked with a macabre monsoon,
as we are ~
the vandalised victim
and the compromised culprit,
the secret of megalomaniac sunset
remembered in rain and ruin.
Summer Host a Jamboree
Summer hosts a party – a JAMBOREE!
Sends out engraved floral invitations
Annual pageant ~ ~ ~ blooms wear filigree
Ruffled pansies…deep purple impatiens.
Poppies perform - these highway troubadours
Butterscotch daisies festoon o p e n roads,
Popcorn blooms BuRsT – celebration’s UP-roar!!!
Music :) merriment :), through coral bells flows.
A fiesta of flowers twirl in jubilees
Dandelion meadows - ^_^ galas of golds
Waves of colors sway in sunflower seas
Carnivals of roses in crimsons u n f o l d s
Coming out party - a lavish $oiree -
So much to celebrate each summer day.
Like Harry Potter, the sorting hat (my mom)
has placed me in a bloody, crimson colored school.
It’s disorienting, as I go about, the logos are wack.
Poor little rich girl
no beachside lovers
this interminable, scorching summer.
I’m swept up by scholastic spirit.
Can you hear it? Cause it’s deafening me,
on this cool, dry, Boston orientation day.
As we finished our morning 8k jog,
the sunrise blossomed, painting hot lava clouds
with hues of yellow, orange and pink.
We’re traipsing unfamiliar paths,
It’s not what we’re used to, the roads are uneven
and the architecture’s all boxy and wrong.
.
.
Songs for this:
New Toy by Lene Lovich
Better After All by Jonatha Brooke
Now At Last by Feist
Hear our voice
From the east, west, south, and north
Hear our independence
This July Fourth
Like flowers in bloom
In the night
See the chandeliers
Hang in the sky
With crescendos and
Reds, blues and whites
Explosions and commotion
In the battle lights
In the bomb blasts and bombast
Crimsons, umbers and beige
Like the dawn’s breaking light
Mauves, cobalts and jades
All the high-lights and sky-lights
Caught by the American’s eye
It's In the fodder of the diviner’s rod
In the wizardry of July
Bass blues,
Live crimsons,
and wild orange!
Then loud twilight purples.
Sun days.
Emerald leaves, tall-standing trees A stronghold of burly branches
At Mother Nature’s gentle whisper Colourfully, a canopy transforms and unveils
Burnt oranges, rich crimsons, and butternut golds Jewelled leaves radiate in the September sun
Then in perfect harmony, Mother Nature sings again, this time with Old Man Winter The two foreshadow foliage’s imminent, hue-darkened demise
Yet, those lovely leaves persevere and perform, obediently and graciously Hence, one by one, they descend and succumb
Perhaps, I too, need to heed the loving ways of Mother Nature
To mirror the change of seasons within my own wounded heart and mind And then, gracefully like the leaves
Embrace the time to glimmer and the time to let go
@katladyt_t
February 25, 2022
Carnelian and crimsons orchestrate eye music
Ornate as orange oboes that blare a fiery woo
Loud in the hills, flaring flutes of maroon thrill,
Oscillating in burgundy trills of a breezy banjo
Red rises in volumes that the silent trees hear,
For they farewell warmth, in sun-setting relief,
Undulating in vermillion wavelengths an adieu,
Lingering long in mellowing yellows, autumnal
Free leaves wind-whorl a gold saxophone-puff
As apples blush in whistles of a taupe wisteria
Looping branches bare-brown in tuned annual
Love-fest festooned in earthen melody eternal
(9/14/18)
Emerald leaves, tall-standing trees
Colourfully, a canopy transforms and unveils
Burnt, bold oranges, rich crimsons, and butternut golds
Like jewels, they radiate in the September sun
Mother Nature gently guides, the leaves obediently perform and persevere
The dark hues of their wounded state prepare to succumb
I too, need to release the darkness of my wounded heart
May the change of seasons remind me that like the leaves, there is a time to glimmer
And a time to let go
September 18, 2020
@katladyt_
Flame yellow with a tint of gold,
flutters with bite of autumn cold,
on aspens and their birch cousins
are first seen when the fall begins.
Then scarlet fire will appear,
a blaze that won’t inspire fear,
and deep crimsons of apple-hue,
add such richness to a view.
Next sugar maples, orange bright,
like morning color of sunlight,
the harvest-bringer’s vibrant shade
soon dominates the forest glade.
And then the tourists come again,
I guess I can’t really blame them,
the beauty of this display marks
a last hurrah before the dark.
I myself like autumn as well,
but to be honest, this I’ll tell:
I much prefer when the fall leaves,
because I can get out my skis…
from afar, leaves like uncounted catatonic fires
huddled close
pinned to the chill air
a pointillist’s love affair with a hundred shades of red
the ground is a fresh wound, edgeless
a breeze worries the boughs
stokes the hanging flames into quivering
crimsons
scarlets
vermilions
renegade ambers
a slow burn resumes
accompanied by a susurrus of sighs
a dirge for a season
and the summer sky, now turned slate,
is cremated
An autumn masterpiece
As fall now spins its color wheel,
a’ changing of the leaves to share
In tangerines and crimsons tones,
now won’t you come and meet me there
Where apricot and cinnamon
tint valleys on this wondrous day
We’ll walk among the umber hues
together in the vast display
To feel the breeze upon our skin,
sweet wafting scents of mountain pine
So I may hold you close to me,
and know you’ll be forever mine
In amber, bronze and violet
a canopy of nature’s gleam
To glimpse the beauty far and near
with you would be a perfect dream
Perhaps we’ll share a tender kiss
while strolling neath a saffron sun
Admiring the season’s view
as nothing more could be such fun
Then spend the day in shaded bliss
beneath a pastel maple tree
Here in the park as autumn paints
a masterpiece for you and me
9/14/18
For the: Colorful Fall Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron
With temps in the nineties for four solid weeks,
and nary a raindrop forever it seems;
our outlook is bleak and to this our mood speaks
of these late summer months and their endless extremes
as the visions of autumn are filling our dreams.
The ground is all cracked and the grass has turned brown
as the fires in the west still continue to burn;
this lengthy hot summer is getting us down.
It’s time for a change as we slowly discern;
for the moderate weather of autumn we yearn.
For family and friends a tailgate we’ll host
as Friday night football the hometown we cheer,
and cool nights by the campfire as marshmallows roast.
The colors of fall on the tree leaves appear
in yellows and ambers and crimsons so clear.
We long for the sight of the full harvest moon
as it rises on high in October night sky,
and patches of pumpkins like bright orange balloons.
We’ll welcome the autumn with hope and a sigh
as we bid our farewell to the summer – good bye.
September 6, 2018
Reincarnation: Autumn's landscape of color hasten return
Anticipation: Amber golds, crimsons, and tangerines we yearn
Elimination: Unworthy umber, culled to suffer and burn
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