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Stan Gichuki Jun 2017
I don't know if my daughter will be dark or light skinned,
I won't choose her mother by her skin Colour,
I'm into deep stuff.
The sound of our heartbeats together will be louder than the sound of our skin tone.
But in case my daughter complains about her being dark,
I will tell her not to worry, I'm paying school fees for her to be bright!
"And when she is 16 and in school I'll teach my hand to enjoy saying goodbye when i have to. So i hope she will learn, i hope she will learn that in this world education is key but with dignity, humility and respect you have a bunch of keys"
eius reginae Jun 2017
We silence each other with a magnificent apocalypse
You poison me with paint-smeared lips
And I choke you with ink-stained fingertips
With colourful grips
And aesthetic drips
We create a breathtaking eclipse
a.k.a a poetic way to say "your art has rendered me speechless" xD
thepoeticwit Jun 2017
Roses are red
Violets are blue
My heart pumps red
Yours, I'll pursue.

Roses are roses
and violets,
  violet

Red are the roses
and blue is
my soul

Cold,
    as it longs for you
Waiting,
    for a warmth it may never
         receive.

Colourful,
the flowers
as they bloom

But wither
they may
through the
seasons

and

    the

      days.
Roses are...
Scarlet Niamh Jun 2017
His burning hands trace
spiralling trails across my body,
echoing my outlines
with fervent magma.
His fingers are magnets
drawn to my rough edges, cracked
hands of glass smoothing me over.
Try as I might,
I blink to the beat of his heart,
cry to the flow of his love.
I am no longer my own.
I was a girl
of the purest black and white,
living a grayscale life.
He is warming and heating me
to a vivid red,
eyes burning blue,
skin dark with desire.
He comes in colours everywhere,
purple joy, green mystery,
the sound of his eyes catching mine.
The reverberation of his music
is enough to stain my life
with colour more vivid
each time his hands meet my face
to pull it towards his.
~~ "Let me worship you." ~~
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
The sunset imbues its last glance
as molten lavas cool into exotic crimson
painting the colour of romance on the seabed.
What glance did you cast?
Stunned moon turns up a notch,
keeps looking over the ocean,
yet to drink a drop!
Ah, holy smoke,
what did you drop?
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
It’s a coloured and shaded broad daylight.
Bring me my hourglass, my paintbrush.
Keeping a timepiece, how soon my brush
strokes become finer it is not the task.
Try once more, strike a fine chord in time,
ever ticking but doesn't make a sound!  

Let’s read the small prints, the shadow lines
on the pitch of the slit sun shines!
A dark spot in the light, some dotted lines
on a blank paper, however witty you might
describe it, count on the tweeting birds
short and cute, singing in the open air.

Light and dark the two tallies, ins and outs.
The times come and go, flowing fine.
For now, let’s take a look inside.
Tint and shade nor tone them now.
Zoom in and out, just watch them as they are.

This cool sleek shade on the sunny slate
is it a shadow, or some quivering curly hairs
or are these reflections of flocking clouds,
diligent sea eyeing deep down on the ground?
Read the small prints, shadows in the daylight,
before the show is wrapped up.
And down the evening pool, the sun
parts away with the black swan.
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
Don’t go, hold onto your colour bowl,
never lose your paintbrush,
not even at the twilight.
Someone's smiling on earth.
It can’t hide forever.

Maybe hidden but not far—
could be only behind a lock of hair.
Black is not only black.
Look beyond, it could be all fair.

Gently raised and softly lit
on the moonlight’s field
These forever-calm shady groves,
piled up on the night's pitch-black scene,
are ahead of the curve in silent reading.

Behind these out of the box line-ups
by the middle, the stage composed
for the thrillers that rock and roll
An incense is still burning
the sundown burns down into ashes,
is still breathing, smelling the scent.
Yesterday will revive and comes tomorrow
keep an eye for a moment or two.

Follow the glow, gazing in the night
and slip into the grove
for they are in the know
is a veiled beauty, earth’s silhouette,
drawn down to the moon!

All the starry fireflies on the stardom
love to drop down and join the moths
Around this tucked away silhouette,
charming beauty down the moon.
Only on the earthen ground it grooms!
Maitreyi May 2017
has no one ever told you that
your eyes aren't brown?

your gaze has borrowed from a hundred places
a colour i'd use to paint a million pictures
clay, i think,
soft clay from the hills and valleys
with the spring-kissed earth
on those postcards you send
only to the ones you love.
your eyes have every shade of colour i ever gathered
as a child from the old pebble beach,
and golden specks; i'm certain
the sun once danced inou.
the falling leaves of autumn
have swirled into the way you look at me,
teaching me new languages,
of storms, of sentiment, and of silence.
surely,
if the smell of rain was made of a colour,
your eyes would be its name.

did the fireflies learn from your piercing gaze?
i know i want to.
i know the stars slipped out last night,
with only your eyes as their excuse.
i've mastered the art of tiptoeing past
the crackle at their surface,
and into the beckoning flame.
a kind of candlelight;
searing at the edges, yet
gentle at the core.
Soulace May 2017
If you paint me dark, like a devil
I hope you see the angel in me.

If you paint me in light, like an angel
I hope you see the devil in me

I hope you paint me as human though,
Because then, you can see both.

And then hopefully you can see
The other colours in me
Wrote this thinking about how people's perspectives on you change literally in the matter of a single instance. How your name can be slandered after a single mistake kinda thing. Thought it be interesting to write something about it :o
nolan philip May 2017
whether this is just a moment
whether this is completely temporary
whether this is all we will ever be
            youve shown me all the beauty
                                          ill ever need
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