In this world a continuing monstrous feud
Men women and children's lives constantly hued
Environmental vandals a desire to denude
Extinction seems likely one must conclude
Unless from within self love we must include
Pray that joy and truth and laughter will forever exude
MLK: THE EBONY HUED HUMAN DOVE
He came bearing a dream for humanity;
Teaching nonviolence, peace, and love:-
He was a drum major for human equality;
Sent down to us by the Creator from above:-
Out of the womb of seedless water came her birth,
And no less than always has been her silent beauty;
Radiant essence, crowning the earth’s heavenly throne:-
She’s a special reflective bouquet of God’s creativity;
Mothering sun smoothing each of her rays into its chosen place
As her regal dome challenges the matter of her crowning magnanimity:-
Her celestial realm is a royal domain established by her creator;
Her celestial curvaceous tinted arch has forever excited the mind’s
Voracious appetite for things whose worth and beauty rivals gold’s own:-
Yes, from time immemorial, humanity has had the privileged
Of her celestial beauty and teeming glow; yet, humanity,
Has never been able to control God’s teasing rainbow:-
Many-hued pubs bid me welcome
As would friends on the street
And so does Cromwell Bridge
Where long ago we first met.
I see the fields where we played
And plucked up the kerry violets.
I gaze out over the dark bay
Reflecting our lives as glass.
Memories live but a season
And like a photograph
And erelong, I will be as one
Fading - crumbling fast.
When you are old and banjaxed
Will you still remember
And find there my countenance
Among the leas of Kenmare?
Hued hint of autumn I descry,
as cotton cloud fleet floats away
across end-summer sapphire sky,
beguiled birds bathe in the blue bay.
As the meadow gets shades of fawn,
hued hint of autumn I descry.
Spectrum spills from palette of dawn,
as fall’s footfall looms on the sly.
From sun-burnt tawny trees leaves fly,
gilded with blazing gold donned new.
Hued hint of autumn I descry
on grass with topaz crown of dew.
Stars shine with your lure in charmed night,
cool winds with your scent pass me by,
I’m suffused with sense of delight,
hued hint of autumn I descry.
I know that every time I see
The pink-hued blossoms of a tree
There’s no way I can feel depressed,
For this is Nature at her best.
The rosy petals gently sway
When breezes blow and if they stay
Some flowers flutter through the air
And near the trunk add color there.
Throughout the spring, these trees retain
Their beauty and will thus remain
The muse for rhyming poetry
Like Kilmer wrote, improved by me!
A curve of sky
in a corner cusps a smooth,
thick dusting
of carrot-mauve hues
tonight. Drapes over heather
trees
whose arms
and hands bend with this drowsy sky
as it starts
to fall asleep-
the cyrean "silk" upon
which this
cantaloupe tint
is traced, daubed, by the brushstrokes
of Mother Nature;
is ready
for the deep onyx doves-with halos-
of a cold Spring night.
With the Heavens'
cut diamonds-for the Goddess-
and immaculate
lambency.
This soft lusty Dusk will Father
a shiny glass red
rose,
a radio balefire
that will
capitivate
through the limbs of the esteemed
trees,
wink
through this Springtime's beetling
intimacies
on a windy night.
The man-made magenta
comforts
as it beams
next to the "Sunrise Field",
mowed emerald blades
under
another sky of day-break
pigments-
a dawn
placenta of bright lemon
vanilla,
and little
sugar- coated strawberry
juices-
another corner
of the clay, sea, and cloud-and ash-
colored campus-
bewitching
oil paintings in crystalline
emblems...
I paused, the moonlight to inhale
As I put my steep climb on hold
Thick grape vines held tight in my grasp.
On I climbed to clutch a buttress
My breath reduced unto a gasp.
On I clambered higher to clasp
The dark hued castle tower cap
I donned my rig to glide away
And soar over broad moonlit vale.
7/5/2021
Writing Prompt - Grasp - Poetry Contest
Constance La France
Grass clutch to the music of dew when spring is near.
When you glide, the breeze brings an impactful smell.
The spring can hold the most sway; it will indeed appear.
Although sunbeams are splendid, the clouds are scant.
Sea waves play tunes, and hued spring blossoms inhale.
God gives us the spring climate as a merciful necklet.
I look up, curious around how the cloud is adept to fly.
Many tangled timberlands and a slew of vines.
Sufficient vigor gasp you to take off with the hawky.
Purple tulips clasp dance to the voice of gold bloom.
Grasp the mysterious downpour vibration on the trees.
The desire for hotter days after a long spell of gloom.
This is a delight that no gem or cash can yield.
When warmth is here, the world is enticing to nibble.
The thawing spring can soar a genuine flavor to the head.
Written June 25, 2021
Writing Prompt - Grasp - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Oh, I just like to roam,
into a forest hued with green;
where the trees have created a roof dome,
and I can breathe air that is fresh and clean.
_________________________________
September 26, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Hued in Green
Copyright Protected, ID 20-1289-635-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Excerpt from my poem Roaming in Nature, posted August 11, 2020
Submitted into the contest, Rithimus Divisa 7
sponsor, Gregory R Barden - NA
The mystery seeds I received in mail,
I did not order, truly surprised me a lot.
Before these got rotten, and turned stale,
out of curiosity I put these in earthen pot.
In the care of the hot summer sun,
nursed by me with profuse water spray,
before the due time sprouting had begun,
their special traits, maybe this tried to convey.
Soon the saplings branched, tall they grew,
buds unfurled to bloom scarlet flowers cherubic,
a species I hadn’t seen, seemed to be mutated new,
hues emitting message of hope in times of pandemic.
August 10, 2020
Contest : "Mystery Seeds"
Sponsor : Carolyn Devonshire
Colourful autumn
Withered claret fronds from trees cascade down
Turn of queen of seasons to wear the scarlet crown
As gilded autumn arrives,shafts of golden sun slant low
Subtle farewell to summers in turquoise skies glow
Breath of night coiled around rusty trees in lonesome fields
Soft dew sprayed upon yellow meadows from bottle of mist unsealed
Pristine pale clouds float with zephyr in mauve horizon
On migrating swans wings fleeting feelings widen
White noise resonates in weak pitter-patter of fall
Petrichor intoxicating senses rises from earth's crimson shawl
Beckoning colourful autumn with kaleidoscopic show
As nature keeps her iridescent vow
14/10/2018
HUED DAWN RISES
When the hued dawn rises from the horizon in flair
I find my mind morphing into a beautiful butterfly.
On its wings the tapestry of dream begins to fly
with all the colors of the heart to the future.
The fractured future tumbles in the sunset storm,
the battered butterfly loses wings in its wake.
Restive mind wonders how long it’d take
for the dreams to break or to deform.
Moon in opaque night goes behind clumpy cloud,
I then light a lone candle in my marooned mind
where in the ruins my lost dreams I try to find
before passive past covers them in shroud.
When the razing squall splinters my hopes in rout
flicker in flame of candle the wind would make.
The pained mind wonders how long it’d take
for the lonely waning candle to burn out.
September 9, 2018
Contest : Enclosed Rhyme - September 2018
Sponsored By : Dear Heart
A Sable Hued Syllabic Awakening…
(For Richard Wright)
Even snakes have love…
but no one wants their embrace;
such coiled loneliness…
Yet nature provides…
eggs are laid…babies are hatched
and snakes slitter on.
Pity…we’re not snakes…
our eggs denied their seeds…
food for the human mongoose.
Yet…we are like dough…
rising in our due season…
and nature provides the time.
Hunger games return…
and the predators are back;
let the prey prepare…
Let the fire this time
be a control burn…clearing
our path to justice…
Freedom is not free…
it must be fought for and won:
Johnson…Ali…Us.
Black as the night
my sable soul sings songs
of Nubian ancestors
sleeping behind closed eyes
in the depths of the inner sanctum
of the womb of mind—silhouettes of beings
peeking through dark skies across ebony horizons.
Granny said, “The blacker the berry;
the sweeter the juice—that I was created
in the image…God don’t like ugly…
never made none but crème de la crème…
That like the ivory clouds of the sapphire sky,
I too, am the apple of His eye.”
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