Short Greyish Poems

A dark black, bright white, greyish hued rainbow in a rainbow-colored sky...

Read More

Greyish geese gabbling
Goslings greedily gouging
Gardens green grass gone...

Read More

Greyish geese gabbling
Goslings greedily gouging
Gardens green grass gone...

Read More

Yonder, not so “wild Blue” anymore, more a greyish, misty, warning.

©5/5/2023

Writing Contest - "Y" words Poetry Contest
Constance LaFrance - Sponsor...

Read More

His fifty sleazy shades he conceals 
Until his layout plans seal the deals. 
I wish I knew 
His greyish hue, 
I'd run, but too late - I'm over heels. 

February 24, 2023...

Read More

smoking little houses
narrow bridge on the black
water sleeping ripple less
we are escalating
green fades beyond space
greyish blue sky surrounds
through the turbulent wings
we are a speck of dust...

Read More

To look into your dimensions and find something...
To find something I've been looking for for a long long time
A light in your warm heart
Whereas, I have something dark in my mind and body 
I'm a person trying to seek the light... 
So I must be Twilight 
A greyish embrace in your arms...

Read More

MAGNIFICATION
------------------

Close up, the rare metal

shows me its greyish form:

no dots or dashes here.

A disappointment,

for I heard once a scientist say

that under microscopes

the dots and dashes seem to bleep

a Morse code that would save the world and more....

Read More

Invisible shackles,
Untouchable burden;
Silent noises,
Unseeable vision.

Am I in a prison?
Or left stranded under a shade?
From fruit of my poison,
Of all efforts that were made.

Hear Ye! Hear Ye!
Listen and remember!

My rights are your rights,
Your failure is my countdown;
Everybody shares the same colors,
Greyish black and white stripes....

Read More

Gnarled and woody its base erupts with
   Greyish green leaves, all veiled in hairs,
        That contain the magic oil,
              To balance the body.
            Scented mauve flowers
                      Added in tea,
                      Perfect drink,
                              Relax
                                 Me.


My first attempt at a nonet. Inspired by reading one by Emile Pinet....

Read More

Like a map, as a highway,
Understand the intricate canyons,
Deep, divergent, continuing,
Like a maze of no end,
An ascension of growth,
Greyish-brown, flecked yellow,
Sparkled greenish-blue,
Hard and rough, cracked and beautiful,
The bark of this tree,
Ages and years its heritage,
I cannot comprehend why it lives,
Here silently, solemnly,
But with it, I celebrate,
Cunning, perseverance, strength,
In the shade of it's greening canopy....

Read More

Greyish mornings skies with tints of pink 
Are signs that soon, the sun will wink 
And fill the clouds a reddish hue 
below the skies of colors blue 

Blackish clouds near afternoon 
Are signs that rain, will pour down soon 
And bring to us some mid-day showers
To wet our beds of garden flowers 

The evening skies all full in glow 
Are signs that God, was here to show
That life is beautiful and to all take part 
His precious gifts to warmth our heart...

Read More

The stars still cast their subtle glow
Through the greyish black churchyards that we know;
Next morning’s fate lies unknown
Before the dawn.

The clouds still drift just as before;
The canaries still chirp outside my door,
Yet suddenly appears the taste of nothing.

The sky is indigo and the blue jay sings;
The children catch fireflies by their wings
Though I am somber.

Throughout the universe no pleasure can exist;
Mirth turned her face at me,
Ever since you fled....

Read More

Thunder's threat


You know us
Yet you are still gossip on us
You know we have no where expect
Here to lay our comfort
Cozy bed. Thunder, why must
You extrude the rain
Your lighten is enough to make
Us fear, it makes our body din
Some of us have grown
With greyish hair
Now he's about to fall, he is just
Coming like dew, where do you want
Us to lay ourselves at this night
We will just be left strand in him, as he's
Already injecting us with heavy breeze....

Read More

The rugged moor top
grew shapeless,
eternal stratum
hiding
within the
greyish shroud,
that cloaked
every enduring
contour.

The dense stratus
began to manipulate
the daylight,
while encircling
shadows
cast reflective
illusions
on shallow
murky pools.

Obedient trees recoil
in stark awareness
while inspiring to honour
the insensitive violation,
bowing,
waving in verve respect
as if only
to appease
the impending tempest…

© Harry J Horsman  1991...

Read More