Written: June 15, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Brian Strand
****************
Violet bleeds beyond mere shade
spilling a bruise in velveteen light
a dusk softens into tender praise
while stars bloom across a dark sky
Rhythm whispers night to sleep
a blaze in dawn's pansy sweep.
Are we on the same page
In the big black book of life
What would your words say
Would they cause relief or strife
Are you an onyx optimist heart
With views worn on white sleeve
Rather are you pink pessimistic shark
Waiting to take a bite of cocoa me
Can we grow towards a center
Perhaps merging in our violet view
Could cooperation create splinter
Embedding in thick skin like bad news
What is it about the opal opposites
Do they indigo in the soul attract
Can we build truce with rock and stick
And merge in a communal lime laugh
I admire your passion and dedication
You’ve a right to have such a stance
Join me in a cranberry celebration
Where unique ideas rise and dance
Shroud of Dusk
The golden sun fades away
As fierce orange carves its way,
Soon purple light starts to bloom
For violets to make room,
Trees are now ghosts of the grey
As shroud of dusk spreads its sway
Heralding end of the day.
When see the light of my flower,
My sweet blooming violet,
Beauty is it's only power,
The hero I have met
She is my only hope,
She is like a coir rope,
To pull me to her globe
Soothing as an owlet-
The dazzle of the violet
His presence is soothing when I feel blue.
He makes me feel our love is one so true-blue.
His sheets are shades of white and aqua blue.
He makes my soul feel it is in deep ocean blue.
His heart chakra's astral radiance so green.
For him I want to go thru, come out of screen.
He may feel jealous, but he is never mean.
His love makes me feel like I am again a teen.
His soul's as lovely as a moonflower so violet.
His aura as calm and sweet as an owlet.
His care as soft and soothing as a towelette.
We make love beneath lights coloured violet.
Being with him, makes me think of these,
Lovely colours of scene that puts me at ease,
Violet mountains, blue sky, green trees,
Standing beside this man who I love to please.
violet-backed birds
they love Savannah forest
African cute birds
We’ve always known violets are beautiful
when part of a miniature bouquet
but as we held Violet, our great-granddaughter
for the first time yesterday…
as we looked into her beautiful eyes…
as she fell asleep inside our arms
as we watched her breathe and smile and yawn…
we were captivated by her charms.
It’s funny the moment we saw her photo on the day that she was born
we fell in love with her right then…
and holding her for the first time yesterday…
we fell in love with her again.
We realized holding her…
something from experience we already knew
that falling in love over and over again…
is what parents, grandparents and great-grandparents do…
And since we’re already in love with her
without making too much of a fuss
we started wondering when is the moment
she’ll fall in love with us.
We’re not sure when that will be…
but for now, like her parents, we’re content to keep
her safe and warm and happy…
and hold her as she sleeps…
These are the thoughts that ran through our minds
on the day we officially met….
two great-grandparents blessed to enjoy…
the beauty of one Violet.
(For all the girls in Gauteng)
I am the Violet of Vereeniging, a vibrancy that nakes ultraviolet light seem pale and week.
My modesty is a magnificent mirage, masking the seismic power of my purple, potent, perfect presence.
I am the definitive definition of grace, the grand gravity that keeps Vereeniging grounded in pure beauty.
When I blink, lightning strikes the earth, purely out of sheer, shocking astonishment at my charm.
My fragrance is the secret ingredient in every single beautiful memory you have ever had.
I am a vibrant, vital,valuable vignette of absolute, undeniable vitality.
violet dancing in a desert.. like a stormy aura...
Pondering the possibility
Of pavement as concrete garden
Not green but faded grey
Definitely depraved hardened
Even so one lone weed flower
Rises between crumbling cracks
Indifferent boisterous bold
Never shrinking or looking back
Growing even glowing
The blue sky never hides
Hues of rainbows and sunshine
Even the rain washes pavement pain
People are like weeds and flowers
Amethyst hearted unaware of their power
Very much like violets in spring
Elephant ears hear voices ring
Making mahogany men feel as king
Eager to have stroked self esteem
Never mind peace pavement dreams
That wars are won and lost for queens
I must confess my love for poetry
For in it I find great escape
I can right what is wrong with me
Or at least write it away
I love the journey through the mind
Unique turning into something divine
Like classical music for the soul
Love to write with pen of gold
I hate censorship of any kind
For even God gives us free choice
Who dare puts limits on our mind
Just to suffocate violet voice
Once upon a time we had free speech
Not so true these times full of fallacy
As I sit gazing upon the unsympathetic clock.
Wiling away these last few dread filled hours.
Stirring my tea, or is it stirring me?
Confusion reigns.
My weary eyes plummet toward the newest envelope on the oak birthed table.
The Violet Grape Purple one, fore it is pregnant with the last love filled endowments of my now ex-wife.
Before when I had the guiltless luck to call her mine.
Or am I at fault?
Either way the staring envelope is all that reminds me.
Why did you have to come in the post just as I was forgetting?
Just when I was becoming too tired to care, about her presence in my bed , in my soul.
Reap me , tear me, but please don't remind me of her.
Wildflowers and persimmons the power in her laugh.
At long last I can stand no more, I gather the mocking, accursed letter and in a rush in a chair I alight.
By the fire I strain to throw you in.
I pitch back instead, hurtling down, down.
On the floor I weep.
Sent by no one that I know
From the mailbox I did find
A violet paper soft like snow
A darker grapey purple kind
It wasn’t sealed nor stamped at all
There was no writing I could see
I wondered who had come to call
And left this purple note for me
I turned it gently in my hand
Not wanting to disrupt its look
Looking at the Hallmark brand
It had me now, bound and hooked
I lift the flap up just enough
To see the paper tucked within
I tried to pull it, not too rough
For ripping it would be a sin
The paper came and it was white
A contrast to the darker sleeve
And then I saw to my delight
My love said he would never leave!
I have a special request, for I am King.
Messages for me you may not bring
inside a plain white envelope! Whatever are you thinking?
Blue, you say. What about blue?
Well, a nice blue regal envelope might do.
I’ll accept blue, but only if it’s touched with violet’s hue.
Yellow or green? Is that what you ask me?
Yellow is for cowardice. Green could show some envy.
I am King; my colors must show splendor and majesty.
I recline in luxury. Grapes from servants I am fed.
Don’t even mention brown or black be used in purple’s stead.
Bring me a GRAY envelope? I’ll say: Off with your head!
.
A violet grape purple envelope. That would make me ecstatic.
You ask where your freedom is? Do I seem as though I'm democratic?
Envelops not colored as requested will be very problematic!
She hadn't received a violet grape purple envelope,
As the invited guests had done. It was more than she could hope.
Each guest had known for ages to expect the guilt edge invitation.
The bedraggled woman knew this wedding was way above her station.
She stood in the foyer of the church, through the window to the aisle.
Her threadbare clothes hung around her form in denial.
She watched him take her arm, as they approached the groom.
A hush was heard as the organ played in the room.
How stunning the bridesmaids, four beautiful girls,
The bride exquisite, her delicate lace gown studded with pearls.
The crowd were obviously all well to do,
Men in Versace suits, women clad in Chanel and Dior too.
She listened as they said their vows and swore to be true.
She smiled as he proclaimed to his bride “I love you”.
Marriage complete, they would all soon walk out to the street.
It was time for the haggard woman to make a hasty retreat.
He glanced at her but didn’t raise an eyebrow.
She would never be recognized the way she looked now.
It was so long since she had cried, she shed just one tear.
Her dear daughter would never know that her mother was here.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.