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~
The day was orange
The word is yellow
Out like a light switch
Teeth a steady glow

The projectile's
Crisscross trajectory
Is no kindness

In the catacombs of this mine
Watch it leak
Watch it settle

What remains is
Subterranea, urania
Built to last
A moment to inhale
Before fade to black

~
kate May 18
although it's against his book to interlock hands, i see our favorite colors embrace in the evening sky.
his is yellow now. i didn't find that out until recently.
after meeting him again, i have basked in my growth. i am not the same. he is not the same either.
but difference is good. he always said yellow reminded him of my energy.
you can hate a situation so so much, yet deep down know it's right with the circumstances. this is exactly how i felt when we parted.
i pray the circumstances are in our favor the second time around.
This is a raw excerpt from before I got into poetry but basically I wrote about the red string theory and the differences of dating someone before and after he converted to Islam. spoiler from older me: the circumstances worked against us but most definitely in our separate favors thank God
MetaVerse May 17

Goldfinches
And dandelions compete
For yellowest yellow.

God laughs when fools behave like racists
All persecuted individuals are His children
God laughs when a few are obviously chosen
And receive preferential treatment under the basis
That the lighter complexion is superior and better.

God created one race. The same blood flows like a river
In all God’s children veins. This blood is red, not amber
God laughs when a few are obviously chosen
All persecuted individuals are His children
The lighter shade is neither superior nor better.

Fools love to divide, to disunite in order to conquer
God laughs when extremists comport themselves like fools
God does not like when his children are treated like tools
All persecuted individuals are His children
God laughs when a few are deliberately chosen.

Copyright © May 2025 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Fumbletongue Apr 5
The sky was pinkle when I woke,
A shade of laughter, half a joke.
The clouds turned sorn, a moody hue,
Like whispers drenched in morning dew.

I dress in plasmic, soft and shy,
A color caught between a sigh.
My shoes were tied with strings of frave,
The color brave, that I crave.

The streets were wet, a glistening feel,
Like promises too sharp, too real.
I stepped through puddles, blur and glant,
With hues that speak, but never chant.

The trees were spindle, tall and thin,
Their leaves were painted grun and kin.
The world spun round in shades unknown,
Colors that feel, but never shown.

By evening, selk began to fall,
A hue that echoes with no call.
And as the night wore shades of flow,
I drifted where the colors go.
I like nonsensical and whimsy so very much. I wanted to see if I could write a poem with untraditional and or made up words to evoke feelings and thought.
"I learned that he loved me."
                                                            ­     "How did you figure that out?"

"I asked him what color my eyes are,
after looking away."


                                                        ­         "That's easy. He should know."
                                                                                          "They're brown."
"That's not what he answered."

                                                     ­             "What else would he answer?"

"He said that my eyes are
dark blue on the outside,
with hazel that followed
the pure brown centered
in the midst of all the colors.
Everyone else would've taken
a quick glance and seen brown,
but he catalogued every detail
perfectly within his memory!"

                                                       ­                            "That's so romantic!"

"I know! My heart skipped a beat
when he described my eyes.
Then he said something about
the different layers of hues being
like the rings of the solar system
and how I'm his eternal sunshine
and that he revolves around me
like some sort of lovestruck planet
and then he used some words
that I didn't quite understand,
but I understood how he was
making me feel, and I felt loved!

                                                             "So, you didn't really understand
                                                                       what he was trying to say?"

"No, but he was really cute!
Then he told me that he's a poet.
And I was like, "Who can't resist that?"
If you fall in love with a poet, you are very lucky indeed. ❤️
Love is gazing
Not at someone
But into them
Marveling at
The colors
Of their soul.

Love is patient
It understands
Why it waits
Or rather,
Who it is
Waiting for.

Love is heaven
It conquers all
Even mortality
Meaning that
The truest lovers
Shall never part.

They will find each other.
In a heaven so picturesque
It might as well be made
With the ethereal colors
That each one knows
Within the other's eyes.
I've always hated the line, "Till Death do us part."
My lover and I will say a different line when we get married.
Ian K Mar 17
Everywhere I could be
your scent persists.
Vibrant.
Brissiling.
Blooming        out
to the edge of sight.
This bed of flowers that follows.
What fragrant colors
fill my day: Platinum, pale gold, indigo
as you linger on me,
rested in rich black
soil. So familiar
it seems a mirage.
I see the sad and awful color of racism not every other day
But every minutes of the day
I see the serious mental and physical damages
That this cancer has done throughout the ages
And is still doing to our beloved human beings
Others treat our people like they are leftover beans
On a pet's plate. Our people deserve respect
Fairness, justice, acknowledgement
Compassion and better treatment
Our sisters are tired of being left out on the deck
Our siblings are often harassed senselessly, persecuted
Falsely accused and relentlessly prosecuted
At one time, they were hunted by the system
At other time, haunted by an organized medium
Created to destroy, ravage and annihilate
To ridicule, punish and discriminate
I see the color of racism, when the police for no apparent reasons
Stopped, frisked and handcuffed our homeless, elderlies
Or our law abiding citizens, like it was open seasons
To hunt for mule deer or bears, who behave like enemies
Of the civilized society. I see the sick color of racism
When our people are not hired not for being unqualified
But because of their skin color; they're quickly disqualified
Dismissed, fired or terminated. I see the monster of cynicism
Every minutes of the day. The arrogance is unparalleled
Beyond belief. The racists forgot that God only created one race

One human race, one human race.

Their false pride, their ignorance is unleveled
And their audacity, incomparable. I see the colors of racism
Not that I want to search for them, not that I want to find them
Most of the time, I simply cannot evade or escape them
It is not easy to ignore the litanies of bad or negative mannerisms
The bigots easily function like lethal venomous vipers
That **** out the emotions, and that destroy all positive characters
I see the ugly color of racism not every other day
But every minutes of the day.

One human race, one human race.

Copyright © February 24, 2015, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
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