Discolouring Poems | Examples


Premium Member 'something Beautiful'

Picture your life 
If you had a blank canvas 
What would you do differently?
If you could go back, would you? 

We get to start every day with a blank canvas
We get to use any colour we like 
We get to choose how we react to what happens around us

Don't ever forget that what upset you yesterday
Might end up discolouring your canvas today
Just don't allow it to influence how you paint the days after that

Remember every stroke can bring forth something beautiful

©250620182130

Tripping Into Fall

The Summer leaves once lush and plump with olive sheen and
     whitened veins are discolouring in the fall,
     Hanging with fragility on thinning stems as Autumn breezes through
     translucent foliage and to the sky viewed open canopy,
     For now they're colouring my eyes bursting into golden orange and 
     flamboyant reds from natures rainbow coat,
     But soon the exotic hues will fade and turn a lifeless russet,
     Free falling to the leave filled ground, the carpet of despair,
     Lured by the seasonal changeling and it's mesmerising swan song,
     They'll sadly swirl and crackle as in pain before dancing headlong
     into the fires of the night,
     Then take a darkened earthy form laying on the Autumnal pyre.


Lucinda River

Sweet Lucinda River laid her body on the bed,
And gave herself quite freely to the soldiers queued outside,
Such philanthropic womanhood, both cash and charity, 
That they might have a taste of life before they went and died.

Her photograph in sepia shades is bound in leather now,
Or crinkled skin of crocodile upon the mustard field,
Discolouring with drying blood in falls of rain and snow,
Imaginary sweetheart, her persona unrevealed.

Sweet Lucinda River cried for all the callow dead,
Their faces swam before her eyes as tears turned them raw,
She made them into men more than the army ever did,
A taste of life before they died, what man could ask for more?

Might bleeding hearts condemn her as a moral reprobate,
Unknowing of the grief she hid or life she had to live,
Don't eulogies and graveyard speech seem hollow by compare,
When sweet Lucinda River gave them all she had to give?
Form: Verse

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