The great white is hiding low in the bowels of the ocean
Gloating at his ability to smell blood for a mile
Not wanting to brag, but loving his keen nose
Giving him a preview of what he might be eating
As the wind cascades out in a frenzy motion
Nephophilia, a thudder crave
Exclamation is a sudden urge
Since soft cotton candies switches to pastels and iridescents
Looking up close
Still immeasurably far
The old regime of sunrise and sunsets finna come up to horizon
where moons and suns collide
stars surrounding them
blues and whites around them
casting shadow of white daisies
So small and wrecked
spurting a yelp of joy, when a cold breeze wheezed out
In blues and whites
they gleam
As a boon to the demure daisies
It is eternal
Feverishly eternal
When they run about in adorbs
It is mushiness and sweetness scattered all over in the morn
This is where I am, in this season
the season to hold upon these clouds
to hold as tight as it gotta be
This season is everlasting
this season to swim the length of the sky
Just for the blues and whites
Just for the blues and whites...
Sometimes I ask
Where did it all start
The blur to sanity
Using colors for identity?
Black and white—
Are they not just colors
Used as symbols from the start
To breathe life into art?
The human is an unfinished work of art
Set on a transparent canvas.
God used different colors
To create a complete image of Himself.
I believe it is deliberate
For He wants to communicate
The beauty He commands
In His complete image
Colored.
Snow White was in a good mood, the prince was gone.
He is a liar and a thief she told her consult, a snake named John.
Two faeries appeared and wanted to know the entire story.
She told them all about it along with a bird named Cory.
Cory was a traitor and flew off to tell the prince what she said.
Snow White denied it all, because she was so well fed.
Cory was banished to the dungeon where he flew all day.
But the birdseed was delicious, and he had a fine pallet of hay.
fresh rhinestone snowflakes
Grandma’s hanky
furry Christmas ****
Star of Bethlehem
Scalloped lace pinafore
Daddy’s ironed collar
clean glistening memories
the whites of Christmas
*Image of Snow Winter White by Pixabay.
Winter Whites
Master winter's crystalline zephyrs brisk,
studies o'er its righteous domain quickly,
promptly the seasonal occurrence whisk,
frost wintry breath dust a field o' calmly.
Eggshells ahead, once a rocky meadow,
Snow hovers across a restless highway,
Wall posts look like porcelain afterglow,
Cable radars are bone chinaware splay.
Alabaster Venuses ... snowstorm lamps,
Snow White elucidate the dwarfs a song,
Daisies dozing 'neath powdery revamps,
Cottonfields-rice patties, trees chiffon.
Ivory pearls, wilt on places, creamed rich,
Winter Sunday's finest whites are the pitch.
2022 January 18
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND STRUCTURED
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 08
*3rd Place*
Winter Wonders Within Nature
~~M. L. Kiser - Judged 2022 January 23
At Wimbledon, you must wear white
To play upon the courts
And that includes your sneakers, visors,
T-shirts, socks and shorts.
The colour police do not allow
Off-white, ecru or cream
And sneaker soles and laces
Should be white enough to gleam.
A single trim of colour
May adorn your neck or cuff,
No wider than one centimetre,
Which should be enough.
These rules apply to underwear
As well, and all obey.
How shocking it would be
If some black lace were on display!
In other tennis venues
Players’ fashions may beguile
But at Wimbledon, these regulations
Cramp some people’s style.
Once upon a time,
there was a little girl,
who liked to wear skirts.
The people in the streets
didn't like the view
of the girls legs hue.
"The sun is calling you",
"You shine in the dark",
"You're whiter than the milk,
"Your white hurts my eyes".
The girl hid her legs with knee long skirts and pants,
she was ashamed she couldn't afford a tan.
She dreamed about the wind blowing in her legs,
for more than twenty years she hid
until that place she left.
Now she lives with more whities,
her legs she can refresh,
everyone is whiter than her.
Sad story, let me tell you,
with guilt in her heart,
when she sees a girl in shorts
she thinks "she needs some sun".
White is ugly, the wrong color,
for her legs and your eyes.
Admire the tan, seek the gold in
your legs and whitey mine.
white supremacists
are not necessarily bad people
they are frightened of losing the privileged they thought they had
it was an illusion anyway.
They fear drowning in the sea of the unknown
the people, mostly working-class you see marching in the street
are not the dangerous ones; they can be curtailed.
What we have to look out for are the wealthy people they tend
to be right-wing without saying so.
They have the power to alter democracy to their liking,
that is keeping the masses at bay and do away with workers unions
and other association they regard as an infringement
to their goal of total dominance.
The idiots we see waving Nazi will bend to the will of their leaders,
and some of them can be used as a private army keeping the peace.
For the rest, they can regret their foolishness.
My best friend is one color, I am another.
We are soul sisters, cousins, we love each other.
We are treated differently by people who do not know us at all.
But judge us on skin color, which is so ignorant, it’s small.
She tells me she has to warn young men to be careful and clean.
They will be stopped for stuff others might have never even seen.
She tells me that her students are afraid of the police.
They have seen what some will do, and it is not keep the peace.
Told her about a disappointment I had once, when I really wanted a job.
Boss chose man with specific skin color, to prove she was not a snob.
I had done this job as a volunteer for about twenty-eight hours a week.
They hired the other person, who kept my job for barely a week.
My best friend and I have some lessons and stories to tell.
We know each other beautifully, soul cousins, we know each other well.
We do not generalize “all whites or all blacks”
Because we are best friends, and have each other’s backs.
night shed white from sky
colours faded, sun succoured -
greenish tint is back
Won second place in A Nature Themed Haiku With Color Poetry Contest sponsored by Tania Kitchin
The fancy dress theme was religious
Some went as tarts and some, vicars
Yvonne found romance
wearing men's underpants
With a vicar in frilly white knickers
You're bracing for
the hubristic lecture
it's not here
The crux:
unvarnished understanding
of how blacks see
their outlook for life
Only narrow options:
they can give in, go through
or go around - a predicate path
Try to feel what it's like
to be born black today
soul-deadening suppression
systemically smothers patience
Crime, drugs, gangs,
rebellious pride seem
viable options for those
who may not see thirty
four thousand lynchings in
Jim Crow South till now
do lives matter
Blacks feel the constant fight
Blacks feel identity loss
Blacks feel crime gives cover
Blacks feel numbing is okay
Blacks feel tribal is safe
Blacks feel whites are asleep
Anthropologists say humanity
has Nubian origins
from the beginning we are one
Gandhi, Mandela, King
were proponents of
compassion, forgiveness, love
some whites reciprocate with
ignoring, masking, denial
too few understand
Blacks feel trapped
The Whites
It is not easy to be white these days, the whites
get the blame for the demise of the Red- Indians,
by students who do not understand history.
When a mass of poor white came to America, it was a population shift
of great dimension, a tsunami over the prairie and
the local tribes who, in a way, were stateless suffered.
But the whites worked hard and made America great, with the help,
in the beginning, of black slaves who became disadvantaged
and have not been able to rise above it and develop.
The whites didn`t invent slavery, Africa has always had slaves,
And here is slavery in many parts of the world that is not white.
The history of the whites is one of triumph, alas, also of
cruelty, but we must come to terms with our history it can`t
be eradicated by attacking statues,
Squeezed into her tight white pants;
still soft to touch I hope.
Her hair down straight but not that long
to make me want to grope.
Approaching her I say hello,
while careful not to flirt.
I only say I saw her once
as all I do to blurt.
I tell her it's a treat to meet;
to run into her then.
But then I'd go to cut it short
with hopes to meet again.
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