Long Burnt umber Poems
Long Burnt umber Poems. Below are the most popular long Burnt umber by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Burnt umber poems by poem length and keyword.
the soft yellow streaked the terra cotta,
shadowing the speckled sallow saffron
a bluish buff upon the cochineal;
brilliant boneblack
grizzled the engrain
citrine carnation
the fallow flaxen,rustic rubrical
rainbow-tinted
the magenta mandarine;
the ultra-marine, tinged burnt sienna,
reflecting a golden flame of raw umbery upon
the earth green;
bright mosaic gold
mottled the sallow sorrel
virent yellow,oak stained
the pale apricot;
blood red,reddish russet
dotted the olive lind;
freckled crimson,
a chestnut maroon,
on fuchsias faded apple green
burnt umber sank deep
into sanguine slumber.
As the telling of the tale should go ~
lonely old ladies always have a cat
but I don't consider myself an old crow
so I'll ignore the tale ~ and that's that!
My Bella was a little homeless kitty
and I'd just left my home of four years.
I was sad, angry, and filled with pity
for myself and her so I ruffled her ears.
Green eyes that look into the depths of mine
a sweet meow that wakens me each morn.
She plays catch like a dog, and that's fine
until she wants to keep playing...Oh Darn!
She warms my feet at night like he used to do,
but she never yells and walks off in a huff.
She never makes me cry or even feel blue.
Since I found her our lives are not so rough.
Shades of burnt umber, grays and soft brown,
she's watching me as I describe her fur coat.
She makes me smile when I'm feeling down.
It's no wonder upon my sweet Bella, I dote.
A jump to the window sill then into my lap,
she snuggles for want of love and attention.
It's become her favorite place to take a nap
although for me it presents a distraction.
Sashay La Femme is my French name for her
because she casually struts in a feminine way.
Upon my chest she's stroked to make her purr.
If I don't shoo her off she'll stay there all day!
Bella Lane will soon reach the age of four.
She's quite the social butterfly with everyone.
A homeless baby kitten she is no more.
Come and meet her. She's ready to have fun.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
January 20th, 2016
I Love My Pet Contest
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Bunny On The Run
A precise touch with thin wet brush of subtle multicolored paints
Whites, burnt umber and a dash of reds on nature’s landscape
An artist focused on the clock’s gentle stroke at midnight
To strike at the beginning
Then takes his most genius leap into the scene
Lands on the canvass carving out the dark
With a spot of green against the barren forest
Aided by a lantern light aimed at the favored target
To capture the fury white bunny on the run
Scrambling through the brier patch without a scratch
The tiny woodland creature takes its own leap around the swollen trees
Darting through and over thicket
Contrasted against the backdrop of the perfect moment
The artist captures the bunny in mid flight
Applies the final touches to his masterpiece
That jumps right out at you at the museum
(Reviewed by a snooty correspondent)
November dons her coats of warm terries,
tans, a few ochres, but surely not bright.
(Except for sneaky, red-coated berries,
peeking from bushes, agrin with delight.)
November's dress: pretty dull, never shines.
We prefer October's boisterous charm.
Branches bare, it's said limbs often recline;
sunbathe to keep their tans, and also warm.
Fashion designers often grow somber
and turn November into works of art.
Choosing russet offset by burnt umber
we find those dull colors lacking in heart.
Whispers of Summer heard in fashion parks.
Soon we'll write of a new bridal-white show.
Days ending sooner, dusk now wearing darks;
Winter waits coyly; looks lovely in Snow.
November 10, 2021
November or December Quatrain Contest
sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
soft yellow
streaked
terra cotta
shadowing
speckled sallow saffron
a bluish buff
upon the cochineal
brilliant
boneblack
grizzled
&
engrain
a
citrine carnation
as
fallow flaxen
rustic rubrical
rainbow tint
the magenta
mandarine
unseen
an ultra-marine
tinged burnt
sienna
reflects
a golden flame
raw
upon
umbery
an
earth green
a
bright mosaic
gold mottled
&sallow sorrel
in
virent yellow
once
oak stained
the pale apricot;
becomes
blood red
russet dotted
the olive lind
a
freckled crimson
whilst
a chestnut maroon
on fuchsias
faded
an
apple green
as burnt umber
sank deep
into
sanguine slumber.
Turpentine waters of paranoia
ripple beneath an opaque surface,
merging with the burnt umber sun,
ravenously setting
over the savage distance.
Did the earth just crack open within its core...?
An ungovernable fear
hastens—
up my spine
tracing each vertebra
meticulously,
as the flavor of iron
and
burnt charcoal
plates my tongue—
leaching into
semi-paralyzed bronchi.
Each breath
of stained oxygen
gets harder
to inhale—
Hypoxia,
smiling mechanically,
rears
its ugly head...
and the tips of my fingers
turn from
porcelain
to
ultramarine.
Trying to scream—
yet silence
is all
that escapes.
A plethora of thoughts
buzz—
like a horde of bees
within
my mind.
If the earth did crack open,
then
why is everyone acting
so nonchalant?
Conspiracy theories
ruminate;
paranoia-fueled
delirium
takes full control.
Consumed
by panic,
abdication of rationality
unfurls—
amongst the
receding world.
AUTUMN WINTER'S SPRING
Burnt umber reddish brown bronze
Folic tree leaves on the grounds autumn
Chestnut smoky topaz
Cracklings of fallen autumns spring summer camp fires
Springs crickets sings flowing grassed sway in the morning spring breeze
Drops drip, drip, drip water plops the drip, drip drip drops of water rains be
Burnt umber grand ma’s turkey
Reddish brown bronze pumpkin/sweet potato pie
Chestnut smoky topaz golden brown cornbread
Like marshmallows burnt umber
Feels warm furnace reddish brown bronze embracement
Like Chestnut smoky topaz
What colors can do, Embraceable Hues
3/21/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2023©
the soft yellow streaked the terra cotta,
shadowing the speckled sallow saffron
a bluish buff upon the cochineal;
brilliant boneblack
grizzled the engrain
citrine carnation
as
the fallow flaxen,rustic rubrical
rainbow-tinted
the magenta mandarine;
unseen
the ultra-marine, tinged burnt sienna,
reflecting a golden flame of raw umbery upon
the earth green;
bright mosaic gold
mottled the sallow sorrel
virent yellow,oak stained
the pale apricot;
while
blood red,reddish russet
dotted the olive lind;
freckled crimson,
a chestnut maroon,
on fuchsias faded apple green
as burnt umber sank deep
into its sanguine slumber.
Excise Exercise 2:
In a wasteland
decision is a choice.
Faced with Life or Death
makes progress clear-
What are the options?
Face the Fear of both.
One brutal truth.
Find love's survival hope.
Cut off black poison.
Amputate the hate
that cast love out of reach.
Gangrene was never the colour of Peace...
In a wasteland,
Green is the colour of Relief.
Nestled in undulating dunes,
crystal clear the clarity that dispels
myth's mirage shimmy shake
Faith is a caravan-
Tuareg Blue and White.
Waiting out duststorms.
Burnt Umber.
Brief.
Aqua M Pen Umbra Poetry.
27 January 2024.
Choose to live.
127 hours. A story of survival.
"To err is human."
To err is to miss the point.
Summer wearily sighed then softly closed her door.
For three months she lingered, and now she'd slumber
while Fall lays a carpet of leaves upon the forest floor.
Her swirling wind gathers them in abundant number,
bronze, russet and crimson, all fringed in burnt umber.
In a cloudless sky, the cry of migrating birds is heard,
flying to a warmer climate as Autumn begins to unfold.
When Nature births a new season, changes are spurred.
A saffron sun warms the Earth with fingers of gold,
and a harvest moon ascends; glorious sights to behold.
Autumn days are emblazoned with dazzling coloration,
painting vibrant scenes like no other season can bestow.
I welcome her annual arrival with joyous acclamation,
knowing the nights will be filled with starlight aglow
before Winter laces the landscape with crystals of snow.