When hues of grey in disarray
Splash and spray hefty shades astray,
Diffuse the sun ray of the day,
Divert happy pursuits away…
One can’t but ponder in dismay -
Is a dark destiny at play?!
Hey, shades of grey aren’t long to stay,
The light palettes of bright outweigh.
Might sound like a passé cliche,
But hope dies last - or so they say.
Yeasty with a cornmealed bottom
The sun-dried tomato's and sundried
Red bell peppers called me
The parmesaned and garlic crust
topped with olives, anchovies, and
Onions
the queint essential of elegance
refined by the knead of belonging
Bacon wrapped artichokes
With a hint of lemon
Mozzarella browned to create a
delicate longing of satisfaction.
Basil, oregano, and olive oil
Enough to tease. Just enough
to taunt. Pleasing and exciting
the palettes and taste buds!
Pink clouds with feint zigzag veins
craft a stunning desert maid’s
muse in mirror swivel guise
as she pondered in set pose
how welkin palettes loiter
when a tense eerie inkling
sighs “I’m this windblown notion”
Prince Pastoral Peacock it must be our lucky day
Elect to spread your plumage erect a fine display
Pivot proudly a tailpiece of fancy feathers fanning
A crest of blue-green eyes omniscient panning
And to watch you step with such cadence
Pleased to make your regal acquaintance
Leucistic yellow morphs pale palettes like Lady Peahen
It’s what you ladies are called if you’re a peacock hen
Pearlescent white wisps a breathtaking bride’s gown
Feathered fur flow accessory accents a diamond crown
Blushingbrides tail in tow, did you pack a bridal trousseau?
Parade before your castle please and I shall bow if so
sunset sails on palettes of tangerine
I close my eyes to fondle this spectacle
in few nicks of brushstrokes; its glory done
my tears stumble , free falling...
asking for whys of its hues vanishing
If one day Death came to your door
I'll make sure that before he steals your soul
It'll be me who he has to pass through
So when I'll go up there before you
I'll tell every star in the night sky
To form the stairways when you come by
I'll paint the moon so bright
That it feels like she has her own light
So you will never need the darkness to hide
And always rise like the booming tide
You will leave the earth feeling sore
How it shall lose something so pure
The colour palettes would turn monochrome
But I'll see you up there in our new home
You can’t wash the pigment
of the past away
Its stain much deeper
than all regret
Coloring lost moments
with what you hide
Painting the future
— from palettes of broken dreams
(Dreamsleep: October, 2024)
They say it's in the wind
restless teases and taunts that seasons are in flux
an escape out of the summer's endless rush,
hush now, if you listen close
you might hear the trees as they host
a last farewell to the flow of this year;
it's a catchy phrase, barely audible
in the blend of fall color palettes applaudable
yellows, oranges, crimson reds as leaves have fled,
they hurry now, rushing into the harvests of October gusts
nature has her schedule as each season must
as spring's summer closes the account trust;
see the skies, the blues on grays
as life proceeds on, fall begins to slip away.
emotional
truths
evoking
memories
insights
of
discovery
in
palettes
of sensory
enchantment
diffused
in
exploration
languish
in fragility
&
wither
in
the
shadow
of the
poignant
dot.. by dot..
frozen forever
as a ‘still-life’ shot
juxtaposed
into our eye
colour flows
into shaped
palettes
of the fleeting
made permanent
a point
becomes
an impression
They waited, longing for calls of stalemate
Upon chequered realms, embracing fate
The deep sweat of their shades, merged to convey
And became another non-hue - pale grey
The non-hues were placed before a jury
A visible length of pulsing fury
Reflections of colours, the fonts of light
With no grey areas to defend by sight
Within the waved spectrum, no judge exists
A black and white gown is not in the midst
For the non-hues, palettes absorbed their glare
That evoked sharpened hues within their snare
As all grey matter differs to persist,
non-hues will not get their brush in a twist
Poet's ink portrays wonders so profound,
as the last crimson rose of summer fades,
verdant leaves gently float to soggy ground,
weaving a pattern of saffron, beige shades.
Autumn's theatre parades vibrant hues,
as misty fog covers frozen meadows.
Haunting pastels animate artist's muse.
as poetic palettes splash glowing prose.
Lampposts ignite with cold midnight moonlight,
as snow flakes embrace trees in a white fleece.
Astral blooms inspire the soul to recite
in a rhythmic aesthetic masterpiece.
Lost in the elegance of nature's call,
art is adored in the grandeur of fall.
The bible
our pure poetry
Divine voice
art -- gallery imagery
Father’s expanding palettes of time
space infinite –
shadows of unframed
formless canvas -- man's freedom
to light, shape, transverse supernal grace,
we, alone, limit speed
and trajectory
bridging dark gaps, colors
dappled, dropped and splashed
faith will make mix, both consciously
and intuitively apply:
heaping our scrapers and brushes,
the chill of the chalkboard screech
the joy of the slip and slide
the rankle of arms and hands figuring
otherwise meaningless medium
Creativity man's Adam
ligaments of my elastic being
dutifully, lovingly allowing stretch
for explore
sinewy constructs for
mental lift and taut endurance,
the unshakable frame that
holds all upright, and
makes daily challenges
superbly sculptable, while
retaining elasticity --
God let’s be
and we decide
if when and what…?
His unseen hand
yet in the flaming attributes….
Colour intermingled
in the spectator’s eye
Divisions juxtapose
‘as is’ moment ..dot.. by dot..
frozen forever
as a ‘still-life’ shot
Colours in contrast
one next
to another
patiently painted
dab by dab
Planes into particles
pigments of paint
in patches react
divisionist,
pointillist juxtapose
into our eye colour flows.
Meticulous,mechanical
the illusion
into shape
palettes of the fleeting
made permanent
Overlooking fields of flowers
The palettes of the Spring
Optic panoramas
I take in everything
Forsythias bright yellow
Croci violet
Tulips of all colors
It'd be better yet
If I could see them all with you
I'd pick a grand bouquet
And give to you one petal
To save and put away
But if this dream's not practical
Not possible today
I'll wait until the wind blows
And send a kiss your way
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.