Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
A May 2018
Red is a sunset,
Warming the summer air.
It is fighting at all hours,
Spilled liquid on the ground.

Red is poppies spreading across a field,
Petals soft as a hand strokes them.

Orange is a leaf falling to the ground,
Pumpkins sitting on porches,
Children laughing, saying
Trick or Treat!

Orange is baking pies for a holiday,
And saying thank you when it's needed.

Yellow is the sun beating down,
Browning backs and helping growth,
Bouncy ***** in coin machines,
Highlighters marking up a page.

Yellow is sunflowers,
And a bow in a child's hair.

Green is leaves dappled with sunlight,
Smelling cut grass in the early morning,
Apples tossed into the air,
Grasshoppers jumping when a shadow passes.

Green is the ding as the cashier hands change,
Receipts rolling out, tearable paper.

Blue is a thunderous wave,
Crashing against a pale shore,
Wearing at stone and land,
Seeping through the cracks.

Blue is a pen signing a piece of parchment,  
A snowflake touching an uncovered nose.

Purple is amethyst in a crown,  
The rustle of a cape against the floor,  
A gilded throne in a stone room,  
Jewels weighing down a smooth collarbone.  

Purple is a rosary clasped in fingers,  
An old's man's words as they touch the air and fall.  

Black is eyes that come from fiery depths,  
An aristocrat's smile,  
Empty rooms of an abandoned home,  
Tears falling on a wooden floor.  

Black is a scythe held in skeletal fingers,  
A scepter held beside a throne.

Grey is pressing keys and forming words,  
Clouds coming in from a dark sky,  
A belt worn in a triangle,  
Eyes that hold only one emotion.  

Grey is a pencil's lead snapping on paper,  
Drawn rain with no umbrella.
This is essentially what I'd say if someone asked me to describe colors.
Paylei Rose May 2018
Your name is Little Red
Well your code name, that is
You're kept a secret from Parents
I talk about my Little Red to friends
They know not to say your name when Mom is around
Because in this day and age
I have to keep you a secret to stay alive
But when the lights are low
And nobody is home
I get to show you to the world
It's society's fault that my mother can't know
I'd get kicked out or worse
But when we are in public
They get to see
How much I love you and you love me
Gays are slowly becoming known
But its hard to explain to a parent
How you don't have a gender
You aren't he or she
You are in between
You have long red hair and beautiful green eyes
Am I considered gay or is that just a lie?
But for now you're hidden away
From parents to see
This love that is blossoming
Between you and me
K Balachandran May 2018
a praying mantis,
comes dressed up as a green leaf;
prayer or duping?
Salmabanu Hatim May 2018
It drains down my pants,
Issues without a warning,
My diarrhoea.
Vinnie Adams Apr 2018
I want to be your hair.

Then I can just get tangled

and absorb the fresh air

and never have to care.

Because you will untangle and sometimes pattern and braid me.
loggi Apr 2018
The green tea is hot
As my tongue touches
and licks
the surface.

The steam floats off with its flavor
and burns the tip
and I then put it down
to mind myself
of other things.

But the day is cold
With the trees bending uneasy
And the windows wailing
with their cries.

My feet are cold
As I sit crossed
holding them close
to my thighs.

But still nothing goes
on inside
But still nothing goes
on in my life.
The hot tea I pick up
as I settled it down
a few seconds ago.

“Oh its hot…”
I look outside.
Where did you go.
a creeping
wither did
vine rocky's
tail and
was falling
leaves in
Autumn only
blue by
trail weened
her dorky
tea in
throat that
her ***
broiled canapé
and wrest
on her
hot plate
A nocturnal season that waste wtung her heart by perchance there
mjad Apr 2018
Light green but, dark around the edges
Not emerald, more like nicely trimmed hedges
His least favorite, he preferred blue
But I can tell that it's different for you
Because I caught you once in a moment
You were kissing me with your eyes open
and the truly talented ones
eclipsed his paltry
writes
which engendered in him a
want to disappear their
rites

the green eye of jealousy
was constantly gnawing at
him
why he asked unto himself
are they more superior of
trim

people who knew a fine pick
would shun his dreadful
pap
they sought out authors who
wore the praise worthy
cap

he couldn't match the greater
pens that did show so
well
to whit he bought off the head bloke
with a sizeable money
shell

to-day he's the so called
genius of expressionistic
art
whose popularity on culture plus
is like a sale at
Walmart
Nadia Laird Apr 2018
I fell in love with brown eyes,
Yet they were no longer brown.
They were an amber
Ambers sparked into flames
In the rings of their iris
I wanted every gold fleck of light
On the rusted mahogany
Twisting bridges
Flickering under their shadowy dark lashes
To lead the way
And I didn't care where.

I fell in love with green eyes
Yet they were no longer green
They were a forest
Dark and mysterious
With dense mossy rifts
Entwined with one another
You lose yourself in seconds
If you go too far
The streaks of sparkling champagne
Sunlit rays peaking through
Leafy Junipers and evergreens

I fell in love with blue eyes
Yet they were no longer blue
They were brighter than the sky
Deeper than the ocean
A sea
Of teal
Waves of sapphire crash down
Circling the endless abyss
Dilating
And
Expanding
Making even tears glimmer like diamonds
As they fall down their cheek

I fell in love with hazel eyes
The iris that changes from day to night and over again
Swirls of chestnut coffee in a mug
sitting on a bed of green grass
The taupe and raw umber trees drape over
shading the circular meadow
sunshine peaking through
kissing the green with gold
and a bright blue sky
lighting it all

I fell in love with the window
To their soul
True emotions
Not being deceived by the smile on their face
Personality dripping down like tears
I fell in love with the truth.
Next page