Wan is the hiemal world outdoors,
The biting breeze blows bitter,
like a blizzard building in momentum,
Cold creeps in through the closed windows,
But his harmonic heart is happy and warm,
touched by tantalizing tingles of tender tunes.
~ silent violins play violet symphonies ~
The mystery of mauve melodies mesmerise his mind,
as he is lost within his mellifluous macrocosm;
Intoxicated with invigorating inspirations,
he experiences euphonious euphoria,
Forgetting the frost and frozen fingertips,
he hums sweet sonatas in the making.
~ soothing arias arouse amethyst emotions ~
A string of soft heliotrope strains
brush away the brumal brutality,
And even as the notes swell, they quell the chill,
The warbling waves wind up in a waltz,
resonating sizzling rhythms all around the room;
Content with cantatas serenading magenta Maestoso.
~ lilac lyrics light up lavender legacies ~
Pending next droplet, drip mirror spherical
Rolls speedily down leaf spine, drops sluggish
Earth splatter tsunami sends ants hysterical
Stunned dusk undergrowth inherits lush nourish
Urge pink ibis mini flamingoes fossick forage
Monstera nod, almond gaps dim heliotrope
Panther threads trunks, slinky seeker of prey
Teeming technicolor butterfly kaleidoscope
Ulysses sheen self propelled pages paraded
Overtly elated to give and receive nil sage
Umbrella edges bend, rotund umbra worms
Squirm in church of curving purple steeples
Polished olive flags flap, dancefloor foliage
Rune scribes in immaculate symbiotic terms
Accord overlaps then parts, calm sequence
Your forest of frolic pays hedonism homage
Excused from the mantra of hot fate frighten
Rain redeems rotted logs in soft moss christen
Scintillating hinterland halcyon happy village
Twenty Second of October
Two Sides to every Story
Too fragile stems hold heliotrope heads
Taffeta flaunted purple pompoms preposterous
Let us lie on the grass, smoke cigarettes
Aft petal papering conjure new year's purpose
Behold from below the branches spread
Frilly dusk shock puffs, dancing shuffle clusters
Obscure wombs become Wilde, paraded
Lying Spring in Winter cherry bloom discovered
Crushed plums, ostrich plumage cabaret
Bud watching binoculars magnify trivial matters
Syrup decay drips paint over Dorian Gray
Individuals strive beside their neighbours' status
Berating stoney belief in banal morality
Seven deadly virtues bruise a perfect husband
Ademant magenta silken siren Cheveley
Upsets good sense in serpent gaudy diamonds
9th June 2022
Written for Contest:
Purple Flowers
Sponsor:
Nayda Ivette Negron Flores
My little corner is a welcoming plot
where I sit and ponder and dream a lot.
As the fruits of my toil flourish in soil, I
take pride in the array of heliotrope.
In the moment of a wonderful min,
I hear the voices of my beloved kin.
And though they have long left this mortal place,
their footsteps I most longingly trace.
On the stepping stones of eternal flora,
of song and laughter and harmonious mora.
With an echo of my undying love, I adorn her.
My nostalgic little corner.
Red and blue blending
into liquid purple build
spiritual tranquility;
violet energies
swirl into hues of
jubilation and unbound
elation,
euphoric ecstasy.
Lavender sprays
engulf the senses,
as nature paints her canvasses
with amaranthine song;
I breathe in her
fragrant love.
Heliotrope pinwheels
dot the horizon of my mind
and a kaleidoscope of
lilacs and orchids
intermingling
with purple irises;
fields of universes
inundate my soul;
I am renewed
in the amethyst magic.
on the edges of darkness
morning sighs in heliotrope strokes
across the quilted ashen sky
as the sun masquerades
beneath the shadows outcast
from another impending storm
to a lonely soul, sad of eyes
duskiness remains
beneath the fogged rims
of an endless plight
it cannot see
through misted eyes
a kaleidoscope of aurora
in its awakening
it lies trampled
beneath the pounding
of life's ambages
muddied like the ground
soaked of rains
stammering to stand
in the tempest
of spring's breath
unnoticed
04/30/2020
Early spring crocus
Hardy purple pansies
Tall clusters of verbena
Vines of morning glory
Arabella clematis
Ornamental allium blooms
Lupinesque wild indigo
Slender wild hyacinth
Faithful canterbury bells
Dignified cattleya orchid
Vibrant effervescent cyclamen
Statuesque gladiola
Cosmopolitan heliotrope
Spiked liatris flowers
Grandiflora petunia
Magical mystic merlin
Unfurling crested iris blossoms
Climbing cascades of wisteria
AP: Honorable Mention 2021, Front Page Pick 2021
Submitted on May 30, 2022 for contest PURPLE FLOWERS sponsored by NAYDA IVETTE NEGRON FLORES - RANKED 2ND
and on March 10, 2022 for contest GARDEN INSPIRATIONS sponsored by BJ LEGROS KELLEY - RANKED 3RD
Grandpa joined the Royal Navy as a cadet,
he adored life on the cerulean sea.
Often we’d talk until midnight,
his sapphire eyes twinkled as he told me tales about ‘The Celeste’
I’d see photos of places he’d visited -
Malta and Honolulu were his favourites.
I was bereft when Grandpa died
Sprays of lavender, heliotrope, and iris adorned his coffin
After the funeral Dad gave me Grandma’s aquamarine and sapphire pendant
which I wear daily.
I really miss Grandpa.
FICTION WRITE
80 words and 13 shades of blue are in this poem
Brevity in Blue Contest
Sponsored by Dale Gregory Cozart
submitted to any poem written in July 2018 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart a k a Broken Wings
7/14/18
Glorious hues arise from halo of morning sky
As dreamy eyes take me on a wondrous ride
Where cottony clouds scatter layers of purple
Adorning with shades of heliotrope flowers.
On my ride I visualize a celestial place on earth
Hearing fairy tales from fabled views unfolding,
And I ask my yawning bushes to vacate at once
So I can plant my lilac garden in sunrise colors.
Mesmerized by purple cues in orchid motifs
My day traversed gaily in enchanting overtones,
When clouds spewing gray darkened my show
Blocking twilight from glistening reddish glow.
Having lost sunrise, I hang on to sinking sunset
Assured by its scenic prowess I build my place
Near the lone lamp on street that is yet to be lit
Yearning for vistas of my daydream to repeat.
My place now occupies best of both worlds
Rising with mornings and setting with evenings,
Mimicking splendid hues of evocative contexts
Adoring fervent daybreaks and dreamy sunsets.
February 15, 2018
First Place:Sunrise and sunset contest by Silent One
Also placed first in ultimate 2018 contest by Brian Strand
Encroaching woodland intoxicated
White Heliotrope pervades
Passions spent overall
Name : Theresa Stephens
Contest Title: In Praise of Kimo
Dated: 2/19/15
Image: 3
Golden brown
and wafting
in the air,
mingling
with the
dust, flecks
of nothing
clinging to
the wanton
parallel
streams that
dripped from
my nostrils,
burgundy and
thick
from a fleshly
gravy boat.
I was walking
around on the
base of my eyeball,
trying to see what
it would feel like.
I didn't feel
anything, probably
because I realized I
was dreaming.
Cursed realization.
The bus-stop
between realization
and consciousness
is littered with
leftover entrails.
Better get to work,
men, we're on
contract, here.
Fat and muscular,
and, of course,
wearing a wifebeater.
Countenance bearing
flab coated in what
could have been
grass clippings
dyed heliotrope.
Bus stop, sidewalk, brain matter
strewn, resembling lucky charms;
entrails stain the
daily news with golden
brown.
Soakin' it up.
Snow shovel, blistered
ring finger, shucked
from a stroke. Wet, now,
is the
plastic handle.
A crater of pulpy
pink sponge beef,
dripping body-bilge.
Dust was
wafting into it,
specks of nothing
clinging to the
rim.
COLORBLINDNESS
I had a confused childhood cos I was colorblind
But still I was the logical and persistent kind.
I would ask mum what color - maybe brown?
No, she’d say - it’s beige,
Well, I didn’t know any French then. . . .
Or she’d say - it’s natural
So, I said, are black, blue, green, yellow unnatural?
Ok she’d say - it’s fawn
How do I know what colour a fawn is?
Well son, it’s kinda biscuit colour
Did she mean chocolate biscuit or coconut?
Ok, you can call it - stone-coloured, son
Did she mean white limestone or black basalt?
No, she changed her mind - it’s more like oatmeal
Ok, so what colour is oatmeal?
Well, kinda biscuity-natural, son. . . . .
And not to mention the problem with
Lilac, heliotrope, purple, pinky-mauve, lavender, heather,
But the worst was wine-coloured. . . did she mean red or white??
And don’t get me started about
Lemon, mustard, cream, daffodil, and.. . . .
I think I went colorblind just to avoid all the confusion
Of shades of colors in profusion
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Entered in Olajide Adelana's Contest Color Blindness
A conversation with
ends unexpectedly
A cloud passing overhead
The Darker Angel leaves his mark
on the good citizens
In a cemetery
a small plant reaches
upward for life
A heliotrope - always seeking sunlight
The remains of a life
beneath
The Darker Angel
has had his say
A small boat
in a big lake
the weather turns gloomy
The Darker Angel
sees his chance
the boat is
rocked by the storm
two go under
never to return
Count your blessings while ye may
The Darker Angel is waiting for you and me
His burning eyes cut through all pretense
Beware!
We, in the heart of midnight, connected,
Charged by electronic parables spun
Through cables and channels of fragile fibre,
Close-knit and ambitious to be as one.
The amethyst drape of coffee shadows,
Heliotrope hands of praying faith
Gathered me in and held me close,
An avid, emotional, passionate wraith.
Devoted, bedazzled I anticipated
Words that hypnotically burn and entrance,
Wings of a dove in the lavender sky,
Soft falling rain from clouds of romance.
I, in the heart of midnight, concluded
Placid in peaceful superlative schemes,
My love is the saviour of hope and salvation,
Guardian of idylls, the keeper of dreams.
Nothing eaten, nothing drunk.
Waiting, waiting.
The clock ticks on with hourly chime,
A dull metronome of passing time.
Waiting, waiting.
Food grows cold, drink grows warm.
Waiting, waiting.
Nightfall scuttles heliotrope claws
Across the ceiling, walls and floors.
Waiting, waiting.
Shadows cleave the paling face.
Waiting, waiting.
Expressionless with staring eyes,
Breath reduced to vapid sighs.
Waiting, waiting.
No raven quothing “Nevermore!”
Waiting, waiting.
The chimes toll death again, again,
Prayers to ashes, all in vain.
Waiting, waiting,
waiting…
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