Sunrise painting sky palest shade of blue.
Break of dawn as usual with pale yellow hue.
Tint in the clouds of pale purple so true.
A gradient of gentle pale colours risen anew.
1.
quiet morning _
petals love the watering hand
2.
shadows of a tamarind tree _
your company
3.
jute bangles _
smell of perspiring hands
4.
light warmth _
cups love having tea from your teapot
5.
pale yellow hydrangea _
our moonlit evening walk
_____________
July 2, 2025
I lie down in my four-poster bed,
facing the pale yellow wall.
The same that I see above,
behind my headboard,
opposite me.
I drown in the sickly pale.
I dare not turn around
to face the wall again.
Little do I notice
the little window behind -
rays of sun streaming through
little glass panels -
Gentle apricity grazing its
little window sill.
pale yellow shards of brittle glass
shatter under my feet
as I stroll along this grey patchwork of concrete
and if the world stutters precarious on its spurious axis,
I pay it no mind
the ice of my pupils melts into inky lashes
that bleed cold down my face
and in my head,
I conjure a universe where
every contradiction, every illusion you did not believe in this one
becomes a reality
all around me,
there are people breathing autumn air who know the art of exhaling
their throats don’t choke, and their tongues don’t freeze
at the thought of forgetting the taste
and that is what I remember hope to be
the galaxies and supernovas and black holes in my chest-
I am tired of their weight
it’s too much for a person, and I am just half of one
so I tell myself it’s not selfish
to fall to frail knees on a faded sidewalk
to double over in searing throes
and give up on starry eyes,
even if it is their memory
that dusts begotten leaves
their golden brown edges crumble into goodbyes
under callous feet
Pale blue, pale yellow, pale green.
Flowers die,
Plants, birds, animals,
Why do you need a name?
There will be dust, storm, cyclone.
In there, what will you wish for?
This trail, this narrow path, this green belt,
But something erodes them,
We can’t trace them back.
Now a metal road, wide, it’s heartless.
We are travelling fast, faster than light,
Are we? Will we ever be?
Will you be the next? They ask.
Either way, it’s an end. A sad end.
……………………………………………………….
The pale yellow sky, reminds me of a smile that never fades
From a greeting etched in memory, immune to words like cutting blades
The tall emerald trees are drawn toward the layers of light
A pillowed curtain for the baby blue skis, waiting to darken in the night
I will hold onto the smile in a world full of escalation
I will carry hope it will bring peace in dreams, without fabrication
The light guides me through changes, only the seasons know
A place I will probably be sitting later, writing about falling snow
These reminders are the gifts, this creation never fails to give me
They guide me through each stage of unsettling uncertainty
As I am ready to close my eyes, yellow is turning to peach colored sky
I let go of all the unknown and release myself from.asking why
Because what I see in front of me is a miraculous formation of peace
To be still in this moment, where hope will never cease
Heidi Sands
9/19/24
(C)opyright
Why is the sky blue? Asked Jimmy
Fantastic question!
Why indeed?
Why did The Creator
Whether God or Science or a Scientific God
Choose blue
Instead of forest green, pale yellow, or maroon?
Is it because the day seems cheerier
The world brighter
The people friendlier
Due to the color overhead?
A Mount Everest of evidence shows
Humans are happier
Outside
Under the blue.
So, why do we equate blue with sadness?
Certainly, blueberries are one of the most congenial of the berries
And Superman always dazzles in blue.
However, I suppose not all blues are the same.
Midnight blue is complex in color and to contemplate.
Almost all have gazed hypnotically into its majestic fluidity.
Many onlookers discovered hidden inspiration and birth.
But, some couldn’t see past darkness and conclusion.
Blue, sky blue, and midnight blue
Among those shades lies many lessons
Including the fragility of stereotypes and prejudice.
What’s that Jimmy?
You only need an explanation to relay to science class?
Oh.
Sky color derives from air molecules and wavelengths of sunlight.
Is that the answer you’re seeking son?
shaking maracas
in the pale yellow moonlight
dancing with the stars
Nobody cared.
You could tell from the cracked and broken windows.
You could tell from the maggots and moths in the kitchen cabinets.
You could tell from the nails scattered across the dirt-caked floor, waiting patiently to be stepped on.
Nobody cared.
You could tell from the way their way shattered brown and green glass bottles littered the floor and the way the doors creaked every time they were opened.
You could tell from the way all the rooms smelled of rot and how poisonous ivy snaked its way up all the windows.
You could tell from the sounds of yelling that echoed through the house day and night.
Nobody cared.
You could tell from the tear-stained pillows on the ripped and tattered, sheetless mattress in that pale yellow, tiny room.
You could tell from the spider webs in every corner.
You could tell from the scent of alcohol on her breath and the slurred curses she yelled at the children sleeping in their beds.
Nobody cared!
You could tell because you were told.
It was right in front of you the whole time.
You saw, you heard, you smelled, and you touched.
You knew, yet still, you did nothing.
You cared just as much as they did;
Not at all.
A meadow of roses...awash in colors, from pale pink to deepest crimson,
lavender, pale yellow tinged in pink, to coral, silver and bronze.
With brick walkways that capture dappled sunlight, and are rinsed with rain.
Perfumed air of roses, in morning's mist, casting a spell of enchantment.
May 1, 2023
for "Rose Meadow Poetry Contest"
by Julia Ward
The snow grips tree branches
And is frozen on the ground
There’s thick ice on the roof
For now, there’s not a sound
It is early winter morning
The sun will visit for a while
Pale yellow skies above mountains shine
Peeking through gray clouds with a smile
I say my prayers quite often lately
With so much going on every day
I’m grateful for the inner strength
Given to me along the way
Heidi sands
2/26/23
shadows in the sky-
fluttering across my eye
a brown butterfly
upon the breeze wind-blown-
the pale yellow Brimstone
a miracle unfolds
Pale yellow skies circle around me
The last light of sun for the day
As it sets, many things whirl in my mind
From a world that spins around me, in decay
There is a darkness settling that no-one can avoid
We must only stand by truth and fight
Faith and light must carry us ahead
And carry us through, every single night!
Heidi Sands
1/11/23
Love tastes like warm miso soup
After going hungry all day
Love feels like the vibrations in your chest
When a base drum booms too close
Love sounds like flute vibrato
Inside a church sanctuary
Love looks like a pale yellow drop of food coloring
On wet watercolor paper
Love smells like when you come up from underwater
In a small, shallow lake with grassy banks
Relish the thrill of discovering a new zone.
Eat locally and breathe fresh air.
Wonderful ambitions to pursue dare.
Spend a night out wanting to eat alone.
Attempting to reach the maximum height.
Diving into deep seas and soaring to the sky.
Be authentic on a hypnotic sway.
Just savor the ocean view from my sight.
Decide what you knew was right.
Effect of playing lyres with feathers.
Higher tones are halcyon and a treasure.
My mind and body sensed the bond light.
Into the Universe of Pure Blissful Art.
Notwithstanding this love was a shadow.
The butterflies wings were pale yellow.
Remaining in the flashes of sight apart.
Written: November 16, 2022
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