Long Orange yellow Poems
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What happened yesterday
Can change today.
When a person understands
His" her" capacity
He "she" can not see borders
To enter some world competitions
Where racism and injustice
Are not principal choices.
Power of beauty and wealth,
Some daughters of some poor in the Competition with some daughters
Of some rich people.
Yesterday when I saw you in miss universe,
I said,"wow! Yeah, they are there
To show their beauties
As other races. "
Participating in such
Universal competition,
It is not an easy task.
From local competition to national,
From National competition
To universal competition.
To have a miss universe title.
Yesterday,
When I heard about black American women
Who won miss America and miss USA
Another black african woman who won
Miss South Africa and miss universe.
Their wins encouraged
More black women in the world
Who were discouraged
By injustice, tribalism,
Regionalism,
Corruption and
Racism in some countries.
Power of beauty and wealth,
A beautiful woman that a man saw yesterday
Can stick in his mind for some years.
Men know what they want,
It is hard to change their choices.
White man marry a beautiful black woman
" or white woman"
A black man marry a beautiful white woman
" or black woman."
Men like the beautiful flowers ...
It is their nature.
Beauty women are like beautiful
blue, black, red, rose, orange, yellow,
white, khaki, chocolate, green flowers
Every man has his favorite coulours.
Power of beauty and wealth,
The style of beautiful women of yesterday
Differ to the style of beautiful women of today
But their attractions don't change in the eyes of men.
Beauty of a woman is
A strongest magnate
Which attracts,
And captures
Millions of men
But
The wealth of a woman
Is a silent
Missile
Which terrify trillions
Of world men.
Majority men are arrogants and
They hate to be dominated
By any woman.
This piece of poetry portraying some truth,
Naked truth about small matters with
Some solutions.
Majority rich women of yesterday
Were so arrogants and
Those of these days
are still very arrogants.
Marriage of two arrogants...
Man and woman
Can not last,
Unless one of them bound.
May 5/2023
Writting for contest sponsored by
Constance la France
Theme: YESTERDAY
my makeup was fabulously light green, lips ruby red
I fit in well with the theme, witches, warlocks and the undead
the blue I had sprayed in my hair glittered like starlight
when we entered the party, a gang began a quick fight
my witch hat was pointed at an odd funny angle
could I get a dance? Just one maybe wrangle?
I looked at my husband whose nose gave a twitch.
I looked fabulous as a sexy, gorgeous young witch
my husband dressed as Dracula with cape and red tie
he watched me dance with another, we both wondered why
the rest of the night my man spun me around the floor
I had not danced in a while, my legs and heart said we wanted more.
My friend laughed at our exuberance yelled out “get a room!”
I gave her a gentle tap on the head with my yellow straw broom.
the food was delicious, the drinks were cold and refreshing.
my husband’s eyes were on me, I knew he was undressing.
funny to me, since we already had two babies at home.
the next thing I knew, I was picked up by a gnome.
The gnome ran off with me to the ladies room to gab.
she had a lot to tell me, and she wanted to blab.
this was a Halloween party provided by my school.
At our principal’s house, and he was now a fool.
Made silly by drinks, which went straight to his head.
His wife was so embarrassed, she sent him to bed.
teacher friends were dressed as goblins, super heroes, and a ghost.
We all discussed unabashedly the craziness of our elusive host.
He was a shy guy, and would be embarrassed to death about this.
A cobra slithered up to me and tried to speak with a hiss.
Nancy! I was delighted, she was my best pal at school.
She had a lot to confide about our nemesis, Mr. O’Toole.
O’Toole was walking around saying dumb things to everyone.
Speaking with Nancy about him was incredibly fun.
My husband was devouring everything off a huge silver tray.
Tidbits and appetizers in black, orange, yellow, and gray.
two jack-o-lanterns were giving me a clever candle wink.
I felt cute tonight, happy, totally energetic, and in the pink.
we had a sitter that night for the first time since our second baby.
Do you want to go home yet? I stared at my man. “No, yes, maybe.”
With two children at home under the age of two, this was a delight.
A marvelous Halloween party that made me feel happy and right.
Poet: Ken Jordan
Short Story: Whisper
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: August/2014
"Whisper"
Each day, in the dewy break of dawn, I go for my walk, down"Tides End Lane," pass Coral Castle, to the Ocean front.
When I arrive there, my eyes gleam with joy, to see this amazing giant Dreaming tree, on Coral Hill.
Dendrologist call it, "The Old Tree," but, I prefer, "Whisper,"
because it speaks to me through
the sweet morning breeze.
They say that Whisper, has stood atop Coral Hill, for about eight
hundred years, and is the oldest tree of it's kind.
It's roots are seen above the ground, and it's limbs reflect the
strength that has sustained itself
throughout time.
Whisper, has seen much in
its lifetime, with countless untold
mysteries to share with those, who's
heart and crown chakra's, are open to receive.
Through this amazing, "old tree," I've learned to respect the earth, to have patience to wait, to hear the sounds that it speaks, I am truly
blessed.
Therefore, each morning when I wake, I'm drawn to Coral Hill, to hear
life story's from Whisper.
The old tree has a "squeaky crackling," sort of sound, that I've come to understand in a profound and spiritual way.
I am blessed beyond my imagination, that spirit lead me to
this Dreaming tree, ten years ago today.
Throughout the years, Whisper, has shown me much beauty, joy,
and happiness.
I am blessed to have witnessed the awesome power of the universe,
that connected me to such an entity.
In winter, Whisper's, limbs are
bare; which taught me to humble myself, and not take life for granted.
In spring, its limbs are lush with
beautiful green leaves, which cause
me to pause and ponder old age. I think that, we're young as we feel, no matter how old we get.
In Summer, Whisper; bares an incredible foliage of beauty, and
in the Fall, the foliage shows colors of orange, yellow, and brown; natures picturesque postcard for
all to see.
Through Whisper, I've come to appreciate all of the seasons. I am humbled by what this Dreaming tree, has done for me. It taught me how to love, and respect all living things.
Never stop even when i say i said
when i signed up
and no matter what
never give me my money back
oh boy do i ever miss my lazy boy and couch now
Just how far would one boy go to proove to his social class
grade seven that yes indeed we live
in a dictatorship
and free democracy is the same thing
thus the fad i am
the game i have become
mainstream which cannot be lost
cannot be won
the game of drive troy crazy
Some play as though they need to disagree with everything i do and say
some play as though they have to thwart my every attempt at love
some play as though there is a prize to be won and they win it and im not allowed
to ever win
some play as though they must make sure i fail at everything
oh the drama and how my life is a show
and no one must tell me
say it isnt so
prove to me im not god i say
yellow blue green
orange yellow black
and start again in the fashion idustry pof pink plaids and ducky yellows
sing to me my names of games for i am your ultimate weapon of psychology and
god
going to the mental institute to prove they are brainwashed not crazy
and the jig is truly up
did hitler really lose the war
and has the tricked message been sent
or am i fooling myself?
or should i sit here and cry wolf as the papparazzi in control of the propoganda
threatens the psyxchiatrists
and ths the game of drive troy crazy must go on
andf the boot camp torture nightmare goes on forever
YES YOU FOOLS
i know exactly what i am
and i am proud to have made it this far
to round four
some mess with my head as if they can hear my thoughts
everything bad happens to my friends
and my enemies are all well off
but oh what a wonderfull object to crave i have become as i scream and beg and
plead on the internet for amnesty
that even mensa geniuses cant figure out
for the game of drive Troy crazy is far too much fun!!!!
so now the tables have turned
and youre eventually going to realise who i am
and what wolves are circling around me
and the nonexistant crimescenes i point at
welcome back to level on eof how we can all belong
of drive troy crazy
and prove to him he isnt god
and no there is nothing there in the spelling mistakes written in english jibberish
but perhaps piglattin japanese if you were smart enough to figure that one out
I close my eyes and hold my breathe
As I fall into a deep sleep.
I am hypnotized, I'm in a trance.
I am walking, walking through
A garden of exotic flowers, wondrous trees,
Delicious fruit growing trees.
I take a deep breath and I can smell the
Luscious fragrance as the wind
Breezes through my hair.
The ground-- it is as soft as rose petals.
As I walk on through this path,
Those petals turn into a
Pasture of beautiful bright green grass.
It is swaying back and forth,
It's dancing as the wind sings
Soft melodies whistling
Through the bright blue sky.
There are birds, butterflies and
Gorgeous creatures running through
This pasture-- running freely
And happily.
As I walk through I can see
Beautiful bright green and blue glossy colors.
I get closer and I look down,
The ocean is crystal clear, it's amazing!
Wondrous creatures are floating around
In this crystalic water,
They swim around and around,
each one unique and different.
Bright, bold, beautiful colors
They glide through this amazing liquid.
I catch myself, I see my face
Through this water, my shadow--
It does as I do! It is wonerful!
I walk on through the warm beach
And all is calm.
I can gently hear the waves slap themselves
upon the rocks-
As if swayed back and forth by
The hands of GOD.
The sunset is one like no other.
The sky is filled with wonderful soft colors of
Red, pink, orange, yellow, purple, and blue.
It's as if I am standing in a painting.
I am standing still in a moment of
My precious life.
The beach comes to an end,
As I get closer and closer
I can see a street in my path.
I am walking on streets of gold!!
Each side of me is filled with
Marshmellowy clouds of white and silver.
I walk down this road of gold, this warm
But soothing road,
I am met at the gates of
HEAVEN
And greeted with warmth and the
Comforting arms of
GOD Almighty.
These gates, pearly white gates,
Are too beautiful !!!
GOD than reaches out his hand for mine.
He is a man of awe strucken beauty!
I reach forth and in a moments time,
I realize I am face to face with
My GOD--
And just beyond those gates is
My destiny.
I than walk on with my Father
Into His wondrous
Walkway to Paradise.
Form:
Fantasy Fish In a Fantasy Ocean Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
From reality to imaginary,
Fantasized by unrestricted reason,
Mental images sink below the ocean,
These are the aquatic creatures this season.
This gigantic body of water,
No longer blue with a green tint,
Has become a nature mystery,
Now a deep purple aquatint.
The cold-blooded creatures,
No more gills and no eyes to see,
Pectoral fins connected to each other,
Making it very hard to flee.
Their caudal fin helps them swim,
It has grown six feet long,
With a measure of three feet in width,
Making the main fin very strong.
That is just my favorite fish, Bassy Trout,
I've seen thirty-five thousand more,
All unlike in nature and vibrant,
From global warming they have morphed.
Red, orange, yellow and blue,
All rainbows swimming in the purple,
Pink, green, cerulean and black,
Sleep all day, and at night nocturnal.
This is no dramatic day dream,
Or a strange obsolete hallucination,
I've sailed the oceans determined,
To see God's beautiful creation.
Written By: Laura Urbaniak
Date: November 18, 2015
The year is made up
of four awesome and adored seasons:
one has evergreen trees,
it's the home of hummingbirds!
These trees are decorated with snow
and staring at them: we feel great emotions!
Meadows have turned white
and grandma drinks from her teacup
wishing to borrow time;
illness has confined her inside,
and frolicking she finds pics
of her grandchildren holding her hands!
The year is made up of four awesome seasons:
one has beautiful blossoms,
and it's a joy to look at them
and admire the loveliness they show so vividly
as butterflies and bees rest on them,
then fly away going back to their nests!
All the birds take flight in the vast and luminous sky,
and their shrieks awake a small child named Dean
tossing in his crib, his mom promptly
tends to him with motherly affection:
warm milk is the remedy, he goes back to sleep peacefully,
but he wakes up again hearing siblings ring the doorbell frantically!
The year is made up of four awesome and adored seasons:
a parasol is held by a fair-skinned lady with a straw hat
and dark sunglasses resembling Marylin Morrow,
she happily strolls attracting attention although she's kind of fat;
going further into the grove of maples, she's startled by a crow!
And finally, she sits on a bench and moisturizes her crimpled hands!
The year is made up of four awesome and adored seasons:
leaves on trees are turning orange, yellow and red,
it's a wonder to see such incredible beauty
emitting a sigh from an awakened emotion more profoundly
felt by contemplating a painting from an obscure artist
who spent all afternoon giving it an idyllic image with lively paint!
Tourists surrounded him with awe, even a couple recently wed;
even I watched him stroke the canvass as he felt good vibes!
Set the scene
strike the slate
a plague befalls Rome this day
like the Gods bless the clouds to spew rain from its jaws
A hurricane of envy washes the city streets
already filthy with the foul stench of death and rotting flesh
The universe knows the tyranny of deceit, deception
lurking in the public, the Senate
all the twisted, despicable crimes we commit against our own brothers, our kin
and instead of burning this whole city to the ground
the universe glorifies and preserves this wasteland of corruption
Do you not see the blood permanently staining the walls, the welcoming street signs
Are you that blind to not notice the number of ill increase steadily
with every passing day, impossible
The riots paint the city vibrantly
a sea of red, orange, yellow; fire
outrages and cries of innocence ring out through the night
and disassembled limbs: arms, legs, fingers, toes, torsos, breasts, name it
and you shall find it in silent parts of the streets
I find myself chuckling while on the run
Here we are, considering ourselves the perfect society
righteous above all other yet we hold timid, sensual orgies in our very beds
in our beds, backyards, neighbors homes where we bury our beasts
we murder our political figures in chance to gain their riches
only to find ourselves shaking hands with them in the afterlife
poetic justice
Let the public decide but not these villainous savages, these savages...
If I had the opportunity to flee
to flee to Gaul, to flee to Hispania, to flee to the Alps
to escape my fate here
I'd gladly take it than to have a sword find its way through the back of my neck
because I am out of money to pay off the loans I have stacked up
A lonely beggar I am and a lonely beggar I now fall deceased
Gaius Lucian Alteranius
I did once find this incredible little mare
When I was ready in life and knew
she was ready for me.
Somehow I was drawn to a place in the South,
Not to find a horse, but to get away from "it all"
to enjoy nature in the fall. The scenery of
orange, yellow and all changing leaves.
To this small little horse farm my husband
and I went
To camp, ride horses and enjoy time spent
Then I saw her and knew right then my life had changed
I was sent Mon Ami in my path by some divine fate
so strange.
Ahh, my two year old, I bought her that day
and had to arrange a ride to me states far away
When she finally came, yes- she was mine!
A prayer answered after so much time.
We began to ingest one anothers soul
through life's breath and many a long stroll.
Oh- no life without my Mon Ami-
At three, we began the reign of riding and glee
A decision to make her an endurance horse
was my goal- and to compete for so may miles
certainly did make her "smile"!
Though diversity is the key, we focus on
obliterating opponents at super long
distance... winning always in the top three
Little bay mare, half Arabian and half Morgan
Has shown me she has more heart than any horse
I have ever rode, owned, or with since parted.
A special bond occurs between woman and horse
when they spend thousands of hours in the saddle
riding the course.
Superb at anything she has the will-
but even if she were crippled, forever
we'll be together still.
Oh my Mon Ami, you are my desire, my energy
to see you everyday, running about at play
there is no sight more beautiful on this planet
to me
Than my beloved little mare, Mon Ami.
2nd place in "A Horse is A Horse Of Course..." contest by Tirzah.
A. Green
Crazy wind whispers
Into the ears of ‘champa’
A light scented Indian flower
Trees are full of them now
Your love in each and every bough
The breeze is cool
Because it is spring
Because it is south wind
Because everywhere is hue
Because it is warm with you
Blue hills and green plains
My room at sixes and sevens
Red bellied wood peckers drumming
Rhythm in feet nimble
Your twinkling eyes with dimple
Our roads are tremendously red
Ashok Palash and Gulmohar
They call it flame-of-the-forest
Love in red supreme
With you in extravagant dream
Books in eloquently colorful blurb
Beauty steps in every curve
Invitation in every nerve
The spring below and spring above
Your healing love
Goes away alas the days
Of dance in soul in warm sun rays
Goes away your ocean gaze
Life in a twilight haze
Your beautiful craze
Ah if I could have turned the clock
Holding your hand in a Gulmohar walk
Only our hands and feet would talk
Around the clock arm in arm
In your beauty and charm
Alas that is not to be a thing
Our time is as short as the spring
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
March 18, 2016
Butea Monosperma or Palash is a species of Butea native to tropical and sub-tropical parts of India and Asia.
Saraca asoca ( the ashoka tree, literally ‘sorrowless’), belongs to the Caesalpinioideae subfamily of legume family, of Indian sub continent.
Gulmohar or Delonix Regia, grown in many tropical parts of the world, called FLAMBOYANT in English, is a striking sight for its vivid red/vermilion/orange/yellow flowers and bright green foliage...Wikipedia