Colorful colors, colors everywhere.
Afar, maybe near, or just someplace over there.
Colors in quantities,
A copious amount.
Too many colors to keep any count.
Metaphorical colors aren't physically there,
But a good color-finder can sense them in the air.
True colors like to a person describe;
Who's what in what way- the how and the why.
In a colorful world, we all live and stay.
In colorful beds, at night we all lay.
With colors, there's always a great source for play.
Colors make life worth living each day.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
This is a Pilut, it’s very neat.
It cannot walk, it has no feet.
Its roots grow up, its flowers down,
Tucked safe inside the dirt and ground.
How does it this? How does it that?
Starting with how it gets energy from fat.
A rabbit hops by, staring in wonder,
Why the roots are above,
As opposed to down under.
Suddenly the rabbit will feel great dismay,
As the roots latch on and take it away.
Down to the flowers, the roots will bring bunny,
For the gruesome feast that is not at all funny.
It will travel through the stem
To a very tight trap.
Bunnies fat is consumed,
And that is just that.
Another question is how does it grow?
A Pilut’s growth rate is in fact very slow.
It waits a whole year
For the dust storm to near
And then grabs on small particles,
That stretch it a mere.
One inch or two
Will just have to do
‘Cause oversized Piluts, there are just a few.
An important question that’s been asked before,
Is how these strange creatures tend to make more?
Piluts reproduce not very many others,
Being hermaphrodites means they’re both dads and mothers.
When the wind blows, two roots much touch.
There is slight chance of this, so time it takes much.
That one simple “kiss” for Piluts is renowned,
Fertilizing an egg and setting it down
Beside its parent, deep underground.
That egg then grows off of minerals from the dirt
‘Til it’s big enough to eat animals,
for it’s no longer a squirt.
It’s made of hundreds of cells, maybe even more;
Organized in a way that no one’s seen before.
It digests in the stem,
Breathes through the leaves,
A remarkable system
You have to see to believe.
It hibernates in winter,
As response to the cold.
Maintains homeostasis
With extra energy it holds.
A Pilut is an organism indeed.
It has all signs of life, as you can read.
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 8:31 AM UTC
I must .
It's hard, but I must.
I must for others,
for myself, for a friend.
I need to stop this,
it has to end.
I'm tearing, I'm scratching,
I burn and I bleed.
I really should stop.
Not I "should" but I "need."
This friend matters more,
So much more than you’d think
When I need him the most,
He’d be there in a blink.
Our friendship should be
Not with blood,
Not just ink.
Our friendship is kept
In our souls.
It’s our link.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
I must .
It's hard, but I must.
I must for others,
for myself, for a friend.
I need to stop this,
it has to end.
I'm tearing, I'm scratching,
I burn and I bleed.
I really should stop.
Not I "should" but I "need."
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 8:22 AM UTC