Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ave Sep 27
When I describe the air in the current season I never have the words to Articulate This feeling
All hallows
A Season To Be Thankful
The corn
ready to be cut
Or perhaps molded into a maze for the little ones
Full of spice and flavor for you to smell
Or maybe just to be severed for your porch
The air
Is crisp, refreshing
When you say “it’s nice outside,” this is to what you refer
Is nippy, full
On the edge of Sweaters
     On days I have time I like to lay in the center of the field after practice and breathe
      The air restores my soul, my hope
If nothing else, I love
The air
Ave Oct 5
and maybe you:)
Extension of my last poem
Violet emotion,
Dark and sensual.
These secrets kept,
I confess,
Are protected by a
Soft guilt.

Seemingly rude,
Peer through your
Rose colored glasses;
I confess,
It honors me to wear
Your fingers like a necklace.
Seanathon Aug 22
No coloring known
Is such as described by man
Ever seen alive
Tuesday 12 - Just one of many verses
Keiri Jul 29

He didn't know they cared.
His lost self is drowning.
Alone in the world he dared,
To look at it all frowning.

He felt like a horse in the water
looking at the light.
He was never seen by his mother.
Gave up because of the fright.

For all this time he was alone.
No one wanted to see him cry.
For all the failures he saw his own.
And wished the world goodbye.

Gulped into a wirlpool of menkind.
Dark, pitchblack at the end of the light.
Nothing he could ever find.
Nothing could make him fight, at least not with all his might.

His idols are weak, and chose to walk on highways.
His family never blinked an eye.
No one could count all those days.
Were he kept asking himself why.

He was a wrong soul in his own life.
He did not belong in this fase.
Lied who he was and took the dive.
As if he was the only one in his race.

Those who follow me will die, he said.
So I will live on my own from now.
But life is not living while dead.
And he greeted his crowd with a bow.

His colours match mine.
That is what scared me the most.
Only I pretend to be fine.
While he saw more and overdosed.

What colour is it, that tangled our lifelines?
Will I meet my colour soon?
I hope it's bright, I hope it shines.
I hope it is the blue of the moon.

Or the pink of a lily.
The yellow of a bumblebee
Oh no, don't look at it silly.
It's not just the colours you see.

Whatever colour it is, it's not shown by the mirror.
We will never see what we carry.
All we will ever see is error.
We hate dispair, yet discard the merry.

He met the horse and the kid.
He was swimming in his own memory.
The thick liquid paint stuck on the lid.
He never even got to say sorry.

Let's paint the world with you and me.
Family, friends, that girl across the street
And for the first time, it's his colour I see.
My colour gave me the chance to meet.

And suddenly, everyone cared
All eyes were fixed on him.
Aknowledged what he had beared.
Everything changed on a whim.

The happy feeling of sorrow.
The delight of burning alive.
Because there's always tomorrow.
It's never too late to strive.

And with pain he said the kid goodbye.
He took the horse along.
He never again doubted why.
Suddenly falling didn't feel wrong.

For he fell and I fell.
And we both stood up on our feet.
We're all good and well.
Ready to start sketching on a new sheet.

What colour is it I wear.
Is it bright and prone?
I claim to have much to bear.
But I was never really alone.
Inspired by the movie - 'Colorful'
Chris Jun 30
Everyday someone enters.
Everyday someone leaves.
But not me.

I've been here for 12 years now.
The pain I feel gets better with time.

Or so I'm told.

Isn't it ironic?
Someone tells me what it's like
But then I experience it.
Tell them otherwise.
But I'm wrong.

As usual.
Anastasia Jun 6
his cheeks were rose petals
soft and pink

his eyes were the sky
velvety blue

his smile was a disease
contagious and heart-stopping

his laugh was song
i want to hear over and over again

his touch was fire
warm and colorful

his lips were candy
sweet and soft
c.b. ♥
Elsa May 17
I keep my eyes fixated on the gold, red,yellow, and purple sunset that sat before me. I watched as the sun waves goodbye, and the moon slowly makes its nightly appearance.
Bhill May 17
Mother Nature decided to visit us last evening
She was dressed in her coolest summer coat
She came in walking her pet wind storm
Accompanied by her loudest, thunderous, dark clouds
What was she thinking, disturbing our tranquil, spring afternoon
With her banging around the evening skies
Allowing her pet wind to bet carried away
Leaving behind the largest drops of rain she could muster
I'm glad she decided not to hang around very long
She did, however, leave us her cool coat
And, and her colorful shawl
It's cold this morning....

I love living in the desert....!

Brian Hil - 2019#122
Inspired by lasts night visit from Mother Nature
She can to visit last night.
What a wonderful time.
Next page