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haley-kerrPoems
At the thought of you with her my cheeks burn red, And instead of confronting you, I write about it in my orange Journal.  I imagine her yellow Hair tangled in your fingers.  I feel myself turning green; It’s not mature; I know, but it keeps me from being blue When I think about our love that was once so perfectly violet. I write to her: Does he give you a single violet Too?  He always said it meant more than a dozen red Roses.  You will know if it’s true when you look in his baby blue Eyes.  I write this in my orange Journal.  She might have fallen for it too if she was a little more green Or if she spent an afternoon skipping under the yellow Sun of summer.  We grew together under that yellow Sun, and I still have that violet, Gray now, with its brown stem, once green, Tucked away between pages I haven’t read In years in my orange Journal because it still reminds me of the way the wind blew Your locks out of your crystal blue Eyes.  Do you play with her yellow Hair like you played with mine?  I’m writing to him now in my orange Journal.  I don’t bring up the violet. I’m seeing red. I’m not myself when I wear jealousy’s green. I’m mean when I’m drenched in green. But baby, it’s nothing compared to the emptiness of blue That compels me to reread every note I’ve already read A thousand times before, that urges me to dig up the Yellow Submarine music video we made.  We laughed so hard our faces turned violet. I think it’s time now to close my orange Journal.  I must put away my orange Journal and move on.  I was alive and green With you but, violet Love only lasts for the season.  I’ll find another set of blue Eyes, and you’ll get lost in yellow Hair, just to forget about each other’s red Lips.  I’ll let my orange journal collect dust because I know the next one will pick me up now that you blew Me down. I’m a little less green since the trees have changed their colors. I find comfort knowing yellow Highlights fade come winter while the violet will get lost in the pages, but I’ll stay warm with my new love, burning red.
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Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 1:49 PM UTC
Color Me in Love
At the thought of you with her my cheeks burn red, And instead of confronting you, I write about it in my orange Journal.  I imagine her yellow Hair tangled in your fingers.  I feel myself turning green; It’s not mature; I know, but it keeps me from being blue When I think about our love that was once so perfectly violet. I write to her: Does he give you a single violet Too?  He always said it meant more than a dozen red Roses.  You will know if it’s true when you look in his baby blue Eyes.  I write this in my orange Journal.  She might have fallen for it too if she was a little more green Or if she spent an afternoon skipping under the yellow Sun of summer.  We grew together under that yellow Sun, and I still have that violet, Gray now, with its brown stem, once green, Tucked away between pages I haven’t read In years in my orange Journal because it still reminds me of the way the wind blew Your locks out of your crystal blue Eyes.  Do you play with her yellow Hair like you played with mine?  I’m writing to him now in my orange Journal.  I don’t bring up the violet. I’m seeing red. I’m not myself when I wear jealousy’s green. I’m mean when I’m drenched in green. But baby, it’s nothing compared to the emptiness of blue That compels me to reread every note I’ve already read A thousand times before, that urges me to dig up the Yellow Submarine music video we made.  We laughed so hard our faces turned violet. I think it’s time now to close my orange Journal.  I must put away my orange Journal and move on.  I was alive and green With you but, violet Love only lasts for the season.  I’ll find another set of blue Eyes, and you’ll get lost in yellow Hair, just to forget about each other’s red Lips.  I’ll let my orange journal collect dust because I know the next one will pick me up now that you blew Me down. I’m a little less green since the trees have changed their colors. I find comfort knowing yellow Highlights fade come winter while the violet will get lost in the pages, but I’ll stay warm with my new love, burning red.
This is the first sestina I've ever written.  A sestina is a structured 39-line poem written in a complex-fixed-verse form. The line endings of the first stanza are also the line endings of the following stanzas; however they follow a set rotation. I wanted to write about something that colors my life, and since I am a silly girl, I, of course, picked love... ha.
haley-kerr
Written by
haley-kerr
American
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 1:49 PM UTC
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