Could that ruby-throated hummingbird be God?
Fanning smiles-igniting sighs in brief thimbles of time.
To help temper the graying emptiness of our swirling lives.
Then just as quickly God flits away with our pinkish sighs.
Leaving twin pits of black and blue endless emptiness.
autumn might be here
grass has turned a pinkish brown
dead leaves everywhere
Written: April 29, 2026, for contest Sponsored by: Charles Messina
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Silken buds bloom
Tender winds loom
Vivid birds zoom
Callow hills rise
Cloudless blue skies
New sparkle sighs
Pinkish blooms sway
Golden bees play
Sunny crowns day
Breezy rains fall
Slender seeds call
Springtime warms all
Last night
I dreamt of you.
You were alone and carefree,
you rode the waves
of the dazzling Malibu coastline
until sunset,
until the day
gave way
to beautiful pinkish-orange shades.
I dreamt of summer,
of the reflections
of the golden dawn
in your copper eyes.
And, perhaps,
it’s best to leave you there,
in that eternal land
made of dreams and nostalgia
for unlived experiences,
imagery and reveries
of long-gone summers
spent laughing and soaking
in the sparkling seascape,
in that glittering scenery
filtered by tangerine-dyed lenses.
emerald eyes spy
haiku hips limerick lips
white words cocoa dipped
coconut kisses
slipping peachy pinkish tongue
humid thoughts like sun
forbidden passion
inspiring indigo love
hearts fly like white dove
Born with the skin I'm in
likely for all my life,
the color, some describe to be
a shade of pasty white.
Those sunshine rays
are no friend to me,
I seek the shade as shelter,
and safety beneath the trees.
I've suffered the pain of many burns,
some as close to third degree,
my skin tone is so white,
it at times distresses me.
Never will I get a tan,
my skin is melanin free,
a pinkish hue for color,
is as close as I'll ever be.
No time is spent at beaches
or drifting with the tides,
the shore provides no places,
for a guy like me to hide.
If it seems like I'm complaining,
perhaps, that could be true.
My whiteness curse or privilege
well.....
I'll leave that up to you.
sunset on the sea
watching the sun through the clouds
the gray skies turn pink
If I were a color, I'd imagine myself being bright
It wouldn't be brown, or yellow or white
It would be something kind of, like in-between
A pinkish/red, or a Orangish/dark green
Silver is too sparkly, and gold is too bold
Bronze' not too shabby, but it'll make me look old
Purple doesn't cut it, nor does a light blue
But I might like what color I am, if I mix the two
So, the color I'd be, is the color I'd get
If I mix purple and light blue, I would be violet
undulating worm
pinkish fat coils entrancing
~ raindrops enhancing
Twenty years ago this month I was in Enid A. Haupt Garden, a manicured
garden surrounded by two rows of saucer magnolia trees. The magnolious
large, cup shaped flowers showcasing breathtaking display of white or
pinkish-purple petals with outer petals of darker shade of pink or purple.
The petals, thick, soft and velvety scattered on the ground and benches.
I was swept away by the pleasant fragrance and captivated by the scent, a
combination of sweet, floral and slightly citrusy. A fragrance so noticeable
for the scent wafted through the garden, creating a pleasing aroma, like a
sweet lemony candy. Unforgettable! When will I see and smell them again?
The picture changes to a serene painting of the sea
Then the evening clouds of late autumn by the ocean
There's a crystal blue lake followed by a lavender
River and mountains and then nighttime stars by a
Highway lit in neon/There is a city viewed from
Miles away and lighted with the colors of dawn
There is a green glow and a pinkish sunset and
Always the ocean and a mountain with a man
Pointing at the sky/The sun rises overland then
Sets leaving a calming new morning
Now there is a purple desert with twinkling stars
And a moon just sinking in a new horizon and
Clouds so thick you can almost taste them
Like cotton candy and there's a dragon
Sleeping on a desert floor with blue sand
And a river in grey pass fertile soil and
The clouds rolling in for the background
And the dawn and the river go on forever
The night wind was icily cold.
No herons or olive tree warblers flew,
Only hooded black ravens,
preying on the souls of lost men.
More red-pinkish flowers
dropped from the tree,
leaving the branches bare
until in a few days
the green leaves will sprout,
and the tree will remain flowerless,
an ugly sight, shunned by all.
Suddenly the wind dropped.
He felt despair, sullen and dejected.
Soon no one heard of him anymore.
Some say he hanged himself
upon the very tree that sheds its flora,
Others believed he fell on a stump
that pierced his bowels as he lived
a recluse amongst an unknown tribe.
Others made him their hero
just for the sake of being different.
But he was seen no more.
The icy night wind blew,
the Judas tree shed its odorless flowers,
as true lovers escaped to scented bowers.
One day in May, I sat nearby a stream
where a few mulberry trees were flourishing.
I rested my head against the trunk of one
where clusters of white comfrey grew nearby.
Beautiful yarrow were also scattered there,
with pinkish-purple bells; some were yellow.
I must have fallen into a dream
because I saw the stream was rippling
with fizzy sounds of bubbles.
The stream was pink champagne!
The flowers around me performed a ballet,
swaying delicately in the breeze
as the bells of the yarrow rang a dulcet tune.
I woke up all a sudden,
noticing that many leaves of my mulberry tree
were not leaves at all.
They were actually butterflies coral streaked.
I’d startled them on waking,
and a cloud of them fluttered all together
away from my tree.
Other bright butterflies joined the throng,
partaking of the nectar of the once-dancing flowers.
Although the stream no longer bubbled champagne,
the reality of mulberry trees and butterflies
was more breath-taking
than what I ever
could have dreamed.
then the sun winked at the night's lazy clouds
and they blushed...with a pinkish sigh
not knowing whether or not to warn
the sailors ~ of a distant storm...
The ship was coming towards us, their eyes held the blue color of deception, the skin pinkish glow.
Smelled poverty with a demonic appetite to murder and plunder the resources of others.
A fictitious smile appeared on their faces, and the devil incarnate imaged in them. These are demonic new creatures on Earth.
Stepped on the fertile land, it became barren, their presence polluted the natural world,the devil incarnate is here now!
Where there was happiness, they brought miseries.
Where they were abundance, they brought scarcity.
Where they were peace, they brought conflict.
Where they were healing, they brought aggravate.
Where they were holiness, they brought wickedness.
Where they were brotherhood and sisterhood, they brought hatred.
Where they were oneness, they brought Discord.
The Devil incarnate is here. He is the source of evil in the world today.
By Chanda Katonga.
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