Short Pale Yellow Poems
Short Pale Yellow Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Pale Yellow by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Pale Yellow by length and keyword.
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 for you
Satin sheets of that colour
Between them with you
My gift of love to be there
Together as one forever
Pale yellow full moon
So close seems that touching trees
Still shining this morn
Touch in distant lands
Come shine on ocean water
Touch this distant shore
(For you)
shaking maracas
in the pale yellow moonlight
dancing with the stars
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.
With pale yellow wings
the butterfly passes by
Flutters up and down
A delicate sight to see
As light thoughts, return to me
Heidi Sands
5/17/18
somewhere
the perfect dress is waiting
pale yellow
with soft lines
something easy to touch
fabric that pools
more beautifully
on the floor
or sliding over my head
& through your hands
than any hanger
or body
can portray
He lives off scraps somewhere north of High Park,
and bleeds art into the air in sections,
Mike Ellis, I don't know you...
but your colour is confession,
paint,
wrapped in the pale yellow ribbon of childhood,
tells of an ancient
paper sun, illuminating figures
on blue silk canvas.
a pale yellow dawn
as warmth finds baby blue skies
and apple blossoms
vast sandy beaches
cream roses lotus blossoms
add to dawn's palette
peach carnations bloom
near pale pink ranunculus
yellow butterflies
billowy clouds drift
a lilac parakeet sings
to utter stillness
Watching
pale yellow
full moon in its pristine
glory as clouds move over it
revealing different shaped of moon each
time against black backdrop is worth
watching. It is simply
stunning. Splendid!
Superb!
30.04.2021
Syllable count checked at PS syllables counter
Garden
by Frank Daub
I will talk with you tonight
and – you will answer with yellow flowers,
pale yellow roses,
BRIGHT
wax leaves tied in splashed white bowers.
In dark and on a sea
of white,
You will breathe
into my hand
Perfuming eternity with your gift --
To never leave.
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
delicate tendrils
wrapped around willow trellis
perfume fills the air
I chose this theme as I adore the delightful pale yellow flowers and sweet scent of the honeysuckle blossom lingering on the breeze
Traditional Haiku - Nature Themed Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchen
08/04/20
FISHING FOR LOVE WITH LOVE
In the pale yellow evening
of spring, from my heart,
I cast a line into a flowing stream.
In the depths of its wetness,
teased my bated hook;
but evasive were the little swimmers
in this gentle brook.
With undying love,
the pale of my heart was fully packed;
grateful not having to throw anything back.
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
Lo' and behold,
There it sits
Red Fortitude,
Under an ocean of blue,
Amidst pale yellow plaster,
Towering above,
And a foliage of green
That crowds for a view.
The sun whispers phrases
Enchantments that only shadows construe
And yet unphased by its neighbours
Lost in thoughts of its own
There it sits
Red Fortitude
Under an ocean of blue.
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
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
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.
Swaddled
in an Afghan
woven by my step grandmother's
thin spindly fingers,
I am
warmer than the womb
then the
pale yellow grey
wall paper
that
seems to surround
and wobble
like the water globe
on my dresser.
Above,
I see
my mothers face,
round,
soft,
tallow cheeks,
I want to squeeze them
pull the rosiness,
into my small palms
and eat it up.
A miracle unfolds,to enthrall,
From a caterpillar,green and small;
Upon the breeze,wind-blown
The pale yellow Brimstone;
A butterfly we briefly see,
If she could speak,her prayer... plea
Concern from we--her trustee.
Note The decline of the humble Buttertfly an indication of how we damage our environment
each day without thinking through the consequences for our own well being.
Feel the light
Feel the air
Begin to sense
Something there
Like a difference
Like a new thing
Sense the change
We call Spring
Smooth, glare ice
Now a muddy mush
All soon to be
Green and lush
A newborn feeling
An evolving hue
Pale yellow rays
Touch sky blue
Dabs of purple
With tulip pink
Lift our eyes and
The way we think
Today is the day
That shall bring
Clearly a change
We call Spring
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
Winter reminds me of wet coats
in the hall and the smoky kitchen heat,
of large logs sizzling,
exerting their wetness on the hearth stone;
cut fresh from the garden,
they fill the flagged floor with warmth.
Each morning pale yellow ashes lie
like floury dust around the fireplace,
a brighter yellow appears in the garden,
across the street,
when the rain beats upon the ash heap.
From Perfume of the Soil. Swan Press, 1999.
A winter sunset lights the sky imported
and quick the day has shortened,
in dull shades of white and gray
to fast unnoticed slip away.
Pale yellow whites streak bold with blue
and all that's left of pumpkin harvest hues
gathers bodies towards the inside warmth
of late October shadowy haunts.
Too fast the season finds repose
hiding in the night light glows
full moon rises large and orange
awaiting winter's cold barrage.