Short Yellow(A) Poems

Crap smells really bad no matter the shape or the color
Maybe black, brown, white, yellow, a woman or a feller
Don’t judge a book by it’s cover when you are the smeller...

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Carnation Yellow - A Haiku

sunshiny sunlight
shall carnation yellow flies
pollinates the bee

beauty to the eyes
good smells aroma so nice
carnation yellow

6/7/19...

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Listen to poem:

A delicacy

of nutritional value

and most palatable, yet,

the bluish crab of

struck yellow, a nebula

of stars, holds value, than taste.



Date: 06/13/2019...

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Yellow flowers pull the eye into the yellow sunset.
It's as yellow a yellow, I  think, that any yellow could get.
As yellow as a dandelion or a glass of lemonade,
Or as yellow as my little dress, my loving mama made.


Written 3/3/16

Inspired by picture #2...

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Crimson or claret she just can't decide
Red or deep pink her mind won't be made
A different scheme colour could be the answer
A yellow, a green or a floral pattern
She's so indecisive, I hear her call
"What should I go for", so I make a retort
"Whatever you like, you choose the paint
they're only your nails, for god's holy sake"...

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Oh here cometh
So redemptive an hour
Sate in the wind
Which upon us is.

Oh here cometh sweet calmness
After the hurling of the wind.
Come sweet calmness come, so
Singest again the birds.

Hurl passing wind hurl
so hurl - hurl so
This yellow a yoke
With thee to take.

Oh here cometh
So redemptive an hour
Sate in the wind 
Which upon us is....

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I could tell you who I am,
But I'm petrified of opening up.
Why am I terrified of pouring like a river?
I wonder what mountains gave me such shame.
But you'll forever live,
Within the cracks of some beating heart,
I wonder,
If the first stab of heartbreak,
Was the same shades to you,
Purple, yellow, a tinge of pink.
What is the melancholy in salt?
For it resides in all endless things-
-Tears and oceans. 
                    -By Pavika...

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Yellow, a sunny color -
bittersweet brightness of life.
Wild dandelion its flower,
brilliant in grandson’s eyes.

Watching the Summer spin,
fragile twirling and bend.
Pandemic’s Kindergartner plucks bouquet -
tenders it to grandma.

Isolation had its moments -
streets with no cars,
chasing a lemon butterfly.
“Oh, it flied away.”

His skateboard in pause,
as our lives were,
but in home’s vase,
weeds quickly passed away.
...

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There he hangs amidst his bunch,
tempting me to have him for dinner,
filling me with guilt about how I feel
about this living thing with its yellow skin.
My Buick’s also yellow, a sight to see.
It was bought almost new in 2001.
The car covers the miles like a rocket ethereal,
the banana’s king sliced atop a bowl of oatmeal.
My Buick is a world-beating car,
the banana in the night is a shining comet.
I love them both dearly
and worship them annually....

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