Short Unforetold Poems

When a puny mind 
with no virtue of humility
Tries to reach the heights above 
But threatened by a fall into 
the depths below
A life with no intentional destiny
No bivouac 
No ideal but tedium 
Quivers full of arrows
But with no fixed target
An unforetold obscurity
A menace only to whom who wants 
The plaudits of men...

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If grass was hue of violet
     And buttercups were pink
That would be so beautiful
     I’d have to stop and think

If rivers ran in purple
     To oceans white and gold
A regal portrait that would paint
     A vision unforetold

Yet are not green and yellow
     As striking as a pair
And are not waters blue and green
     As royal an affair

Why is it, color matters?
     It’s only what we see
Much more below the surface
     Try sipping turquoise tea...

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