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Shofi Ahmed Aug 2022
A paintbrush on fire
it isn't yet done.

Paints in broad daylights
in cool cloudy darks
often relaxes down the line
when the rain pours down
and the flute is on play
it isn't yet done.

The sea at the clement eve
strives to splash over
this rainbow-kissed brush
the moon will thaw the billow
with moonlight
before the waking
sleeping beauty's eyes
and the night will pour over it,
it's full bowl eternally pitch black
only to see lighting up
zillions of stars
on the paintbrush
it isn't yet done!

Apparently that looks only kohl
the night eyes in within a colour
eternally weighed down
out of sight mass hues
looking to visualise a scoop
paints yet one more first light.
Full of colours the paintbrush
it isn’t yet done!
Coleen Mzarriz Feb 2022
I dropped by my favorite place today, released another exhausted breath. My pants were bulging out and the fat kept me stretched out. I hate that feeling. My stomach turned into billowy waves of expectant marks, pinning through my outer skin. I hate that feeling. When I sit, my thigh provokes every nerve in my body. If she has thoughts, she'll be a demon whispering through the wind. My unkempt hair is spinning around like gravity does not exist. Somehow, I failed to sigh out the black smoke forming all over my body. My skin, when pinched, is like soft straps that cannot be withdrawn from their owner. My skin is like the skin of my ancestor—it keeps stretching widely, tirelessly, and unprovoked. My heart is tightening its grasp on me. God, please help me! My eyes! I swallowed all my tears away, but my reflection still reflects the dark hue of the moon. When it is sad, the moon exposes his true nature, just like rolled down skins on my neck. My hands go from gently holding my heart out of my chest to weighing the weight of my body. If I let out my thick heart, my body would be lighter and my skin would be a plethora of scars and clay. If I abandon thee and such a calloused body, art will find me beautiful, and that is one of the moon's other sides. It's thick and uncooked. The heavens may not forsake an insecure moon, but a woman hates her reflection when the moonlight lights on her flesh. "Mirror, mirror on the wall..." I called and they did not answer. I froze in my seat and waited until the sun bloomed and dried my tears. Yet I still could not breathe. I went into the sea and swam with the lonely whales. The sun reflected on the waters. I reached letter fourteen, but it was written by someone else. The ambience of the calm ocean washed over me. I released a breathy sigh, and the light went to take me.
Wrote this months and months ago? Haha I don't have a new wip so I'm recycling what I wrote last year. :'c
snipes Jan 2022
Who’s my hue
Red lover feather
Birds of blue
Merge with me
Purple our pupils
Who’s my hue
Am I just color blind
Or am I just hard to find
Jeanmarie Mar 2021
I painted my room the hue of blue
For a reason
You see, blue reminds me of the beach
Which reminds me of hot summer days
And cold summer nights
Which reminds me of when you lent me your sweatshirt
Which wasn’t blue, but when I wore it I swear it radiated that hue
It’s scary having deep feelings for someone
But the radiance of blue was so vibrant
It was easy to push my fears aside
Instead I was filled with calmness, peace, security, and feelings of content  
I was left the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.
I painted my room the hue of blue
To remind me what I want to strive to feel
Each day of my life
I’m open to any thoughts, suggestions, or critiques :)
The crow and his burnt feathers,
His fading Iridescent luster
calls out for a life that at one point

He knew.

Lined with dark ash, covered
In rubies and gold.
Yet one look up above
One he could not obtain.

An illuminated lie in his dreaming state.

In stillness he stood
The ink that he bore
The scattered light he once held
soaking in his obsidian hues.

Things he could not take back
Things that he could not have

And all the questions he still had
could only be answered

By the moon.

-Kore
I used to have a pet crow
Shofi Ahmed Feb 2021
I took the plunge into your sea.
Oh, you know what?
I am now hooked forever
on its colourless colour.

******* out a cloud-bubble.
Black or white, it doesn’t matter.
Sprinkle some drops
in your pious colourless style.
Watch, it shines and sizzles
in renewed hues
across the land and over the blooms.
Still, in the end, remains a potion,
an intact drop:
The untouched ocean down the moon!
The sky dressed in a lavender hue.
Six o'clock mornings always felt better with you.

You were my morning cup of tea,
A one hundred percent all-natural sweetener guarantee.

They could find us in the sky,
With our footprints in clouds of sunset tie-dye.

Just like that, we were gone with the wind.
Sailing, never to be seen,
And so our story would begin.
Niel Nov 2020
Ponder this well to understand more clearly

       that what we have as life

                is many-hued reflections
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2020
Queen Fathima the Queen of Heaven
she tones her rose-red colour
lending nature a cool spark.
Boom, that fires up big bang!  
So she shades her hue
puts on her black niqab
so in her shadow nature may flower.
Now the full-blown scientia nature
is beyond every hand’s touch
eyes on for her Queen everywhere!
Bullet Aug 2020
The jeans seem to be clean
The tone I bring is dark washed
My shyness is bleached
I keep thinking of spin cycles
Acid wash anything I can dream
Just a tab to expand what is loaded
Psychedelic and kaleidoscopic hues
Painting with a vivid open minded view
Let the universe hypnotize me
The spin cycle I keep thinking about
My decision to surf on a wave
Will it bring me tripped out pain
Stuck in the intertwining of space
Stuck between experience and entrapment
Acid wash me into a different color
Or drown me into a world I’m not ready for
Acid wash color me away
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