Long Colour in Poems
Long Colour in Poems. Below are the most popular long Colour in by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Colour in poems by poem length and keyword.
The brightest colour in all the world
so bright and glowing is a yellow
fullness as it startles your eyes
real strong effect make many to follow
So many more like minded needed
one's that bring smile to many a face
so full of yellow bringing such hope
such anticipation makes one feel ace
Another ingredient that effects our faces
is hearts overflowing with abundant joy
this makes the outward shine from within
so bringing a smile better than any toy
Remember yellow is a colour so bright
one full of sunshine making one smile
shine yours everywhere to all around
walking in yellow for many a mile
Not only did they colonise land
They colonised history too
They decided to make history a blank canvas
To start anew
By painting over the colour in white paint
Hiding the accomplishments of tge black race
They say slavery was in the past
We need to move on
But continously teach us about the holocaust
And when a black student ask 'what about my history'
They respond slavery is bad
But that is all the knowledge we need
Ignoring their pleas
To teach black history
The teacher turns their back
Not caring how they feel
The extent of teaching black history
Is learning about Martin Luther King
Who had a dream
What about Claudette Colvin
Who was to 'dark' to be seen
Or malcolm x
Who was so dangerous, so powerful
That he was the FBI's most wanted
For daring to speak
And making an impact
Holding the oppressors accountable
He knew he was going to die, he knew what they had planned
He had died taking a stand
We did not go through all of this just to be erased
Our pain and suffering will not be in vain
We will scream and shout, till you say our names
And for your crimes you will pay
You will not hide our history you tried to Bury in our graves
Dark clouded thoughts are dashing round in my head
Should I end it all – would I be better off dead
The tablets helped for a little while
On good days I could even raise a smile
Depression looms over me like an angry black cloud
Some days all I do is scream and cry out loud
If I ended it all would anyone cry
Do they really care if I live or die
I’ve tried to end my life once before
I was found me helpless on the kitchen floor
They kept me in hospital my life was on the brink
They gave me some treatment and got me a shrink
But no matter what they do or say
My depression it is here to stay
Oh how I crave for normality
To have a job, even raise a family
But pill popping and black thoughts are all I know
Things from my past haunt me from so many years ago
There is no colour in my life its all just black and white
Shall I give in to depression and give up this earthly fight
Jan Allison
13th March 2014
Written for an on-line competition – NOT from personal experience.
~ please see my notes above about this poem~
War is Lovely
It´s a hell of a war, soldiers running between burning buildings.
It is a great war good for sex feel the strength running through veins
blood oozing out of bullet holes and onto the sand that is the other guy´s
the person called an enemy.
Was this their finest hour defending whatever they have told to defend
Wonderful war brilliantly red, and women dream of joining them
only to find they are out of place; soldiers will rather masturbate in a fox-hole.
Glorious war, something the survivors can talk about in the park playing card,
name the buddy who didn´t make it out lost in reveries and full moon.
Do they see the green leaves on trees or the flowers; is it all death and ruined buildings?
Forever etched in their crippled brains.
Oh, I´m so tired it is hurting me, endless wars and commentators explaining the murdering
of the innocent according to what the think-tank pays them.
I long for the autumnal colour in Portugal, a place to heal the abused body so distressed,
facing away from the TV, screen that drips of blood or failing that of football boots.
To walk on old cobblestones and fallen leaves and remember that we live in a beautiful world.
I can feel my blood,
Gushing through my veins,
I have two beating hearts,
One to lose and one that pounds,
At the door of my skin,
A caged vulture in the jungle of my ribs,
For it wants to be lost,
With a jar of ashes addressed to the ones I love.
I can feel its emulsion in my blood,
A pellet of germanium in an abyss of red,The burst of colour in my wrist reminds me of death,
And how the roles reverse in circumstance,
A blush of pink on my eyelid,
A blush of pink on the periphery of my jaw,
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive
Guess I’ll play a song, I’ve heard before.
But it beckons me so,
The thin films of glass against my wrist,
Cold fingers running over jagged edges,
And I sip clean, every blunder I make,
Guess I’ll kiss my wrists pale again,
I see the crevices of my mind unfold,
I can see a face, a body to hold,
I choke on blunders, I choke alone.
My wardrobe has skeletons with sardonic smiles,
There’s crosses on the glass beneath my feet,
There’s crosses in my throat,
I’m running down the nape of my bones,
And like the phoenix once arose,
I’ll hear my voice at the bells when the church door swings,
My consciousness is an ocean, my awarness is a wave,
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive
In the game of life, there are no set
players in our team,
Sometimes someone joins, and
sometimes someone leaves,
Each player plays a part in fulfilling
our needs, wants and dreams,
To me, this is how it seems.
Through trials and fears, we continue,
in life’s run,
And in our triumphs, we forget the tears
and pain and celebrate the victory,
having fun,
Each voice singing together, each word
turns into a sweet song,
Together in unity, giving a sense that
we belong.
In the Spirit of Team, there’s togetherness.
So, raise a toast to all those who
were and are still on our side,
With Faith’s gentle hand,
In the Spirit of Team, let’s continue to
grow and explore the land,
Together like the flowers we will bloom,
Each displaying our uniqueness,
beauty and colour in the garden
of the Living.
Like in the multicoloured garden of the
blooms, there’s beauty.
In the multicoloured garden of the Living,
there’s Beauty too.
by Zyrool
Five Shades of Anthracite
Triads of black white and grey in the middle colour in above and out within
Five silhouettes a passion play mix shadows dancing in the moonlit night
work art and framework on the vertical horizon of ecliptic thought’s array
Alchemy casts precious golden sculptures in the feeling fondness wisdom’s
mind tending to its business slow and fast evolving rainbow’s kairos white
Five shades blend into one reasoned action intuited perception truth reality
embodiment beholding earth wind fire water aired in carbon gilded nuances on
the journey’s crested prism’s holograms when three plus two engraves infinity
They overtone refinement’s overture into the pentagon from anthracite to gold
by way of any tinted tingle unadulterated quintessential and concerted meaning
13th September 2016
Rainbow drops are falling
Changing colour in the sky
When the sunlight kisses the clouds
With an angel way up high
Pitter, patter, Pitter, patter
On your window pane
Raindrops gently falling
Bringing a colourful display
They’re painting pretty pictures
An exquisite touch of class
Those showers from the heavens
Creating mosaics on the glass
Pitter, patter, Pitter, patter
On your window pane
Raindrops gently falling
Bringing a colourful display
Can you hear them falling
Decorate and play
Leaving runs of colour
On the window that they stain
Pitter patter, pitter patter
On your window pane
Raindrops gently falling
Bringing a colourful display
Do you hear them crying
As they beautifully cascade
Those exotic little raindrops
To brighten up your day
Pitter patter, pitter patter
Down your window pane
Pitter patter, pitter patter
Such a colourful array
Drops of red and orange
Yellow, green and blue
Colours of the rainbow
Fall for me and you
© Copyright KC.Leake
1st January 2017
All Rights Reserved
“Next Chapter”
There will always be a next chapter
Written or not, this is of no matter
What matters is the colour forming in your world
Black is not a colour, it dominates, shades and swallows other colours up,
It exists to be blended with White, a vacant aberration one can easily fill in and colour over
What one is looking for is the colour in the spectrum, not yet found
To be newly created with all available emotions to hand and heart and mind
There will always be a next chapter
Written or not, this is of no matter
What matters is the colour forming in your world
Beginning
End? there never is an end
What matters is the colour forming in your world
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 March)
After dispersal from school
I sat in the van of kids
Cute, naughtorious, innocent & cool
among them, a girl
sitting alone, silently
smiling at their pal
I could guess
She didn't have friends
She came & sat before me
touched my hand & look at me
Its okay, I smiled!
She returned a big smile
After a long humble touch
I felt hard rub
It was painful
But I didn't disturb
As I could see, it was like
her little fingers exploring that
but a question, still flying in my mind
"What she wanna do? "
It remained unwind .
She kept her soft hand
beside that of mine
suddenly my hand became bright
All those knots were untied
Atlast I understand
She was comparing colour of hands
turning front & back
finding what she lacks
Oh! She was comparing colour of hands
Her Brown & my White hand
It was painful, more than that rub
Somehow I managed, I tried
'cause I was sixteen
But she was just five.
I could tell her biology
Biology of dominant colour
Value of skill in society
& no value of colour, in life
'cause I was sixteen
But, but she was just five
So, I remained silent
Filled with a guilt
(No-one admire me beautiful
But I never complained
'cause I felt fine & thankful
Whatever you made
Not going to happen same)
'cause I could feel her pain
& it's me that is to blame
I hurted her, yeah I hurted her
though I was sixteen
& she was just five
No no its not right
Oh! God why?
Why you made me white?