Winter sun you amaze me
Lush fields of green
The smell of a freshly cut lawn
Winter sun soothingly kissing my skin
An unusual stillness in the air
A world on mute
Winter sun you appear
Like a beaming smile
When my flesh is in need
Cover me in your wholeness
Enfold me in a leafy glade
Melt the cold away
And stay with me throughout this forlorn day
Winter sun bathe me in your golden ray
Winter sun never go away

Wretched voice
Boxed so thin
Rubbed-raw noise
Sandpaper skin
Beaten crest
Lasts for years
Naked nest
November tears
The season’s stall
Before the laughs
The worst of all
The ugly path
A sun burned green
I waste away
While they all wait
For bright Friday.

A nation grandstands glory.
“Go, my son. Do your father proud.”
And the son always goes.
Thinking he’s nothing to offer here.

When young as old envies,
Charges as ordered,
Rapaciously configured,
“Your son died a hero,
don’t you know we made him
a murderer?
Be proud.”

And the real father weeps.
Progeny wasted,
To sharp blades of grass.
Too sharp to leave alone
On god’s green earth.

Earth that eats the love of your love.

Why do you let them go?

Why?

The most beautiful green
I’ve ever seen
is the one between
the budding of the trees
and their fully formed leaves.

The color of spring.

Green is the nature around us
Green is the drip drip drip of morning dew off trees
Green sounds like leaves rustling through the wind
Green is like the ominous forest at midnight, watching
Green tastes like the bittersweet nature of life
Green is the Slytherin flag Symbol
Green looks like the tobacco plants billowing in the wind
Green is the atomic screams of green parrots
Green feels like the luck of the Irish
Green is the crunch of crispy Chartreuse apples
Green smells like freshly cut grass
Green is the breathing trees through the days
Green is like a cow grazing in a field
Green is the color of Glowing Ones in Fallout
Green is the color of the melons I grow.

The pool in my backyard has turned green,
and not the kind of green you write poetry about.
It's not a vibrant, spring fling green,
but a murky and tiresome green.

It's not the kind of green you write poetry about,
for it doesn't flow freely in the breeze.
It does not represent freedom, nor nature,
or anything in between.

It's still, it's stagnant, it's gripping and mean,
a green you don't want growing in your heart,
a green that will consume and tear you apart,
a green you won't write poetry about.

My pool has turned a menacing green,
that rattles my brain and keeps me awake,
that floods my thoughts with each breathe I take,
and defiles my soul everyday.

My pool has turned an unforgettable green,
that rots and haunts all of my dreams.

Green.
Full of kinetic energy,
and fantastical vibrancy.
Once it lands,
it's up again
in swirling inks
too quick to truly be seen.
Color the leaves of trees,
cover the blades of grass,
coat the feathers of peacocks.
Make it better
with the color
of full liveliness!

Money is green
So are most government buildings.
Cold and drafty.
Built for cost and Also Shielding.
They try to shield themselves from their nuclear Holocaust.
They ordered the drops of two bombs.
What did it cost?
The ****** of a great president.
Bad vibes to another great
Leader...
Policing other countries..
Getting in the way...
This is not just about politics...
Keep with these words, today.
People hungry.
The rich overlook talent
in their "lower" rooks.
Greed is green like a seed.
However planted, it grows
into a tree
from the ground in which it is planted.
From evil is such
From good is such...
Never a crutch...
Balance this riddle...
As the Joker's Card is Drawn..
Plant your seeds...
In the greener and right Lawn.