Long Colorblind Poems
Long Colorblind Poems. Below are the most popular long Colorblind by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Colorblind poems by poem length and keyword.
So, I’ve never been a true nature boy
Although a cool and lazy night in June
Just sitting in the darkness I enjoy
An open starlit sky behind the moon.
As a gentle breeze caresses my face,
Upon my back I feel the long day’s heat.
And of my cares and worries not a trace
As into relaxation I retreat.
The lightning bugs in flight pay me no heed,
Eliciting a chuckle as they dance,
I wish them best of luck as they proceed
With all the twinkling stars to make romance.
I’m colorblind, so hues I can’t employ…
So, I’ve never been a true nature boy.
5/14/2019
Nature Scene-Orphan Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dale Gregory Cozart |
This Poem
David J Walker
This poem is complete in the single clap of a hand
But not within applause
The roar of a crowd cannot compete
With the focus of a poignant pause
This poem is the long last ray of light
Perfected in summer at the
End of its solstice awaiting the
Tonight to begin looking
Toward a still distant Autumn
This poem is a new love navigating
The awkwardness of a familiar stranger
Ignoring the colorblind danger of the name
On the red flags waving over the heart
This poem is the smell of sulfur in
the quick strike of a match
The hatch of faint light
looking for ways to stay alive in a
greater burning
although a roaring fire would be
the yearning for a volume
rather than a poem
I saw one of my many brothers, and we had a heated debate.
I'm very passionate in my beliefs, I hope I didn't cause more hate.
We were talking about slavery in Africa, and how it's still going on there today.
He said the U.S. should mind our own business, focus on our own he did say.
He said we shouldn't help those people...we have enough on our plate.
I said we're the last stand on this planet, the only place left to come and escape.
I see us all as equals, deaf and colorblind if you will.
Every man, woman and child on this planet, all came from the same old hill.
If people could just shed their ignorance, look to their hearts and see.
Nobody is better than anyone else, not him, you or me.
I was raised to care for others, help out whenever I can.
I know this may sound like a pipe dream, but I know God has a plan.
A broken promise, demoralized man who is incapable of being true,
A thoughtless coward, oblivious clown, this is what I think of you,
A woeful chicken, a runaway guy is how you're now portrayed,
A selfish critter, a prideful morsel is the reputation you have made,
When flesh spoils in a slaughter house the smell of you comes to mind,
For your manipulation has made you completely colorblind,
In your mothers soil you were the bad seed,
As you grew up we realized you were just a weed,
A fragmentation, with no revelation is who you really are,
A scab that stopped healing, the beggar who keeps on stealing, now just another scar,
A predicable cycle, a sick little mess, a hidden agenda that isn’t well dressed,
A miserable liar, disposable fool, too bad you weren’t like an infertile mule,
Just like a wolf, you would consume your own,
For apparently humanity was something you were never shown,
Just like wild animals that abandon their first litter,
You fit right in, you unoriginal quitter.
By: Sabina Nicole
Written:9/29/11
Contest:Angry
Living a 3D technology
in our visual world of reality
where one is so much less without the other
Two realities side by side
in it’s depths we came alive
seeing through each lens of a different color
Now it seems we’ve fallen flat
stabbed dimension in the back
as traders for a pair of a different view
Now a pair means both the same
distorting reality through it’s frame
so, either we see red, or we see blue
Balance left our field of dreams
with only one eye open, it seems
where half the people we all know and love
would turn their backs in angry pride
on those who see the other side
now enemies upon their choice there of
In a world where everyone knows it all
waiting and baiting the other side’s fall
based on all they think is true and right
Our two realities side by side
fueled by lies and poisonous pride
stay colorblind, corrupting everyone’s sight
The color of red and the color of blue
are likely the ones used defining you
but what if you’re not what they think they see?
How can you ever change the mind
of those whom choose to be colorblind
and live confined from the vision of liberty ?
I pray someday within this maze
the sun will rise through a purple haze
to cast a royal light upon the face
of seekers of bridges where canyons divide
apart from the crags of the rocks where we hide
to build a world upon amazing grace
My eyes are veiled
No hint of wild seduction
No hungry look of passion
No gleam of admiration
No twinkle of satisfaction
My eyes are veiled
Nothing from my soul passes through
The curtains of this window are drawn
I peek through unseeing
Colorblind to the hues
Selective of the view
I peek unseeing
My eyes refuse to betray me
Veiled by wet black lashes
That dam my tears
The salt of surfaced fears
My eyes are veiled
I will not unveil
Not my eyes
Not my dress
Impervious to caress
Burka bondaged am I
Passion urges, I deny
My eyes are veiled…
My lashes will part
Eyes revealing my heart
My soul will lay bare
Exposed without care
For the one
Whose love is true
Tell me,
is that someone...
You?
Eileen Manassian
A word of caution: The beauty of poetry is that there is inherent mystery in it. That's why we ask our students this question: "What do you THINK the author meant?" Do we ever truly know? If we did...there wouldn't be so many books written by authors trying to decipher Shakespeare's mind...trying to determine who the mistress was that he wrote about...who was the young youth that he idolized. Did he have homosexual tendencies? If we were to know all of this...he poems would lose that sense of wonder. Let the mystery remain mysterious...
Form:
Muskrats are making love-play,
they are disturbing the water
under the wormy bank of the creek.
I am not fishing,
I am just looking at reflections.
I see a swan swallow a cow whole
before a ripple settles into reality,
yet still it remains
something copied from my eye.
A willow tree closes like an umbrella
which will be bad luck for the sky
if it rains upwards.
The brain sees upside down
and the mind sees inside-out.
Water adjust itself to both perspectives
as it swirls in the mouth of a rainbow trout
developing more pictures of itself.
The fish darts away
from the spears of a hunting sun.
Rainbows are not easy to catch
under water
and the muskrats are after it.
They dive into the colorblind air
creating abstract art
with their muddy paws.
Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.” ...
Leonardo Da Vinci
What if there was no poetry in this world?
Unpoetic world with no more poetry
No more perfumes to permeate flowerbeds.
No more glossy beads of petrichor cloying.
A blindfolded moon in veil hunts for solace
moving a canvas of craters, in clouds motionless.
Voice of unspoken words wilting away,
locked in deep thickets, an infinitesimal space
clog a lump in throat of breathless syllables.
reckless tender feelings transmute and displace.
No urge to transcend, No boundless and free...
An unpoetic world with no more poetry.
A lovesick heart no longer rambles
Only blaring sound in bleary eyes,
as known faces devour unknown shorelines.
No more open waters , no more endless seas
No misty mountains, No opaque night walls
Only sunsets fade into shattered dreams.
Butterflies swarm around in colorblind paths,
in search of red and green, they find no more.
No more rhythm ,
No more rhyme,
Only pattern of time ticks in twenty four
The Useless Joy of Poetry,
With us, she is no more.
Dated 24 th January 2019
What fascinates me is
seeing a child ride a bike
after many falls.
It shows if you keep at
something,
you will eventually get it.
Or seeing a baby bird soaring
high in the sky.
Because they understood they
were born to fly.
The thing that really moves
me is seeing a toddler take
their first steps.
It takes courage to believe
you can walk if you never have.
Lastly, it moves me to the core
when I see young children
playing,
before they're told(taught)
they were different.
At this stage of their young
lives embody what being
colorblind truly means.
* I didn't write this for the contest; however, the prompt inspired me.
05-16-2022
As we look back on the path blazed by Jr MLK.
Seeing the progress wondering what he’d say.
The work has begun and the game changed.
But there’s lots more minds to be rearranged.
People wear blinders, seeing black and white.
Naïve to all the many shades in our plain sight.
Fifty shades of grey shouldn’t be an S&M flick.
It’s the mindset of the racial colors yet to stick.
Whites are ivory, beige, tan, peach and pink.
Blacks are brown, almond & espresso I think.
The caucasians are rarely the color of chalk.
Its more like the shades of your local sidewalk.
AfricanAmericans are rarely sky at mid-night.
More like flavors of chocolate before the bite.
We know Hispanics appear white and black.
So it’s time to give everyone else some slack.
We now have many options for sex on forms.
Progressive of gender and preference norms.
But when it comes to appearance of our skin.
It requires the change of our mindset within.
So the next time you look at people to decide.
Think like an artist and set the old ways aside.
We can change our view and cause a surprise.
Unlike our pets, we don’t have colorblind eyes.
If we adjust the lens we view color of skin.
Improvement in mutual respect can begin.
When we evolve our palette of the two races.
USA elevates to reach MLK Jr dream spaces.