An arrogant frost begins to melt,
dripping from the red shingles
onto the progressively muddy ground,
where dark green lines sprout,
erasing the icy past.

Slow growth of small buds
colored pink, red, yellow, and white
take the dream of warmer days
as a twisty hot mirage
strikes the distance.

Life shakes the leaves off the tree,
as all turns bitterly dark,
orange and brown,
and crumpled up on the sidewalk,
chilling down to the beat
of the pidder padder of rain.

Warmth is removed from sensations,
colors fade from a distance to white,
glazed with the purest icing
as the world turns a new shade of grey,
colored only by the feeling of crystals
glimmering like diamonds.

“Orange doesn’t rhyme.”
Well, that’s what we were taught.
So, what it really needs is
Some careful new thought.

So, just for a moment
Let’s get a bit strange;
Let’s take the word ‘orange’
And let us deftly rearrange.
It can become something
Like ‘no rage’ instead.
Doesn’t that fit much more
Comfortably inside the head
And inside your rhyme scheme
As you gleefully poeticize
And smoothly abandon
The conundrum of other guys?

For instance, change orange:
On gear a transmission,
In discussion, ‘go near’?
Maybe some kind of Russian?
“An gore?’, on of Vidal’s children?
Or maybe like ‘Ego ran’,
A stuck-up jogging chicken?
‘Graneo’, something to call
Mother’s mom, if you’re hip?
“Groane’, an archaic manner
To let a moan escape your lips.
‘No gare’, a French gate
Too far away to easily use.
‘Neo gar’, a species of fish
That is sometimes in the news.

That doesn’t not signal
The orange issue surrender.
It just means I am willing
To consider almost any other
Way to look at this word
Another entire way instead
For this rather comfortable color
Halfway between yellow and red.

Let me write a happy poem
and paint it seven colors

Red for the burning passion
and orange shows emotions

Yellow for the friends i made
and green for peace and truce

Blue showing the calm ocean
that steer my ship slow motion

indigo wings that help me fly
so high in violet sky

Seven colors to paint my life
and hide the blackening rife !!

It’s been a dark corridor for a while.
I was hoping I could go into one of those beautiful picture frames
But I was never one to appreciate photography.

Can I disappear out of a window;
Even if there is a drop?
Sometimes I prefer the drop, some days I prefer it a lot.

Could I float into the sky?
Or would I be stuck in the ground?

Can I become one with the orange of the sunset horizon?
Could I become one with the blue of the day sky?

I’ve became one with the darkness of the night, and I think it’s about time to change the light.

red - her lips tasted of wine and blood and all the pain she felt in her heart. she was driven by wild passion and survived solely on her intensity and strength. each breath she took was like fire; so absolute, so empowered.
orange - her hair was crafted from the bright ashes of a phoenix, kindled with streaks of gold. she always seemed to be her own lick of flame from the embers that burned in her heart to the coals that touched her soul.
yellow - her smile was light at your darkest hour, sunshine after a rainstorm. inspired by everything and nothing at all. she was the sun personified, the epitome of radiance.
green - her eyes were so deep and magnificent and ethereal, while still lit with puerility. she could look at you with those eyes and show you that she cared so passionately for you, no matter your mistakes or your faults.
blue - her skin drowned in an ocean of tears, storm after storm, each wave wracked her body. she trembled with heartrending sobs, each breath heavier than the last. her sorrow painted the depths of her, unseen to those who had not genuinely looked into her eyes.
purple - her organs were stained an ugly shade by the darkness she consumed. her hunger was insatiable. she filled her mouth with poison and swallowed it with a smile on her face. the air traveled from her bruised lungs, through her macerated throat, and out her smiling, stained lips.

Someone’s favorite color says a lot about them.

If the color they love is blue,
They could be sad.
Or happy.

If the color they love is yellow,
They could be egotistic.
Or creative.

If the color they love is red,
They could be mad.
Or overtly passionate.

If the color they love is green,
They could be jealous.
Or hopeful.

If the color they love is purple,
They could be immature.
Or covertly heartfelt.

If the color they love is orange,
They could be impatient.
Or adventurous.

If the color they love is pink,
They could be shy.
Or romantic.

If the color they love is black,
They could be depressed.
Or determined.

One color has many different meanings.
We can try to understand someone through colors,
Or even actions they do.

But we truly cannot know how someone feels,
Until we ask them.

hello there chellovecks and forellas
appy polly logies for the chepooka
for i am only a devotchka
begging for a malenky lomtick of jeezny

droogies and nadsats
everyone who owns a pair of ookos
listen up to
your humble narrator

bring me a pletcho platch
and a polyclef
to open up the sun.