Julia 1d
Check yourself
Bullying Bumble Bees
don’t even bother
Bitter as Black Beans
my elixirs of love
mixed tears
in purple
hate dissipates horrible
You never play
Sailing ships
Cotton candy
A purple eclipse
Warm and sandy

This is what I dream

Forever mountain
Swirling by
A moon, grounded
A dripping sky

This is what I dream

Gears turning
My mind wanders
Always observing
Strange wonders
One day
I met a girl
bloomy and tall
she wore sunshine
in her eyes
her hair prisoners
of the wind
and when she smiled
the moon arrived
yet when she cried
her tears resembled
petals, soft and purple
I think she was
made of flowers.
Khushi Batra Mar 13
Your perfect curves

ensnaring over my frame.

Your irresistible soft pink lips

Inviting mine,

Massaging our tongues.

Your jaunty demeanour

making my heart palpitate.

Your seductive smirk

Dovetailing our bodies

Letting me see your gorgeous décolletage

Your bold persona

Purging the tension from my soul.

After your reckless claim

My smock hung loose on your torso

With desire fawning in your oculars.

Making me the purple of your pink.


The colour

of bruised knees


and lips begging

for oxygen


A hue

caught somewhere

between blue and red

(two extremes).

Blue for misery,


(frigid, the tundra),

blue like the ocean

(drowning, an ode

to Ophelia).

Red for anger,


(burning, the inferno),

red like flame

(gasoline for blood,

playing hide and seek

with embers).

Ultraviolet radiance

(blinding, turn your eyes away

the Purple).


(well, not so vibrant)

yet dark

(sometimes, too dark).


(just as the lilac

blossom is)

but harsh

(the bee that devours

the blossom's nectar).

China Doll complexion

(rosy cheeks,

skin the colour of moon dust)

paralleled against whirling eyes,

surging pools of burst blood vessels

and flared veins

(dear god, the Madness!)

Poetry personified--

counting syllables

instead of counting sheep

(a spoonful of codeine

to wash down the tears).

Words engraved into flesh

(wearing sadness like it's

crushed velvet--lovely);

these ink-stained wrists

(or is that blood?)

Empty band-aid boxes

(the scars still ache

whenever it rains)

and empty liquor bottles

(enamel eroding,

mouth swimming in froth).

Fearful of the night,

for the night will 

surely bring the mourning

(A seer-- forever dreading


Self-medicating with

Antihistamines and Tequilla

(Witch Doctor,

burned at the stake

in another life).

Dreaming in pastels

(when the insomnia

permits it)

but existing in a

grey-scale reality

(inhaling this pain

like it's cigarette smoke).

"A penny for your thoughts?"

(Haven't you forgotten?

They've stopped making pennies

because this world no longer

has any use for them).

A reflection in the mirror

(glass shatters,

pupils collapse in on themselves).



take away this body!)

"I love you..."


not pretty enough

to be touched).

A serenade for him(s)

(rejected letters,

"maybe we should 

just be friends").










(wind knocked from lungs,

soul plucked from body).

Lips shatter as 

the kiss the cement

(step on a crack

break your mother's 



who named her child


for the gemstone


( ̶p̶r̶e̶c̶i̶o̶u̶s̶),

for the green,

Mother Nature's

chromatic blush

(wilting dandelions,

forsaken wishes).



It's a colour that

never quite suited

a girl like me--

a girl with a purple soul.
Jean Lewis Feb 18
Kiss the winds and waves goodbye
Empty your heart out into the sky
Zip your worries and everything will be fine
I will be here for you
Amidst, thorny roads, six feet below, horror movies or even hell
Help will come, I will send you an angel

May joy and laughter come your way
Adrift away you may lay
Remember even Hades and Tartaros will say
U may stay and have your way

Press your sword deeper into the foe
And you are sure to make them woe
Soar high and go far
Indulge yourself with the brightness of the star
Only you will ever know
Naught will you ever make you fade... warmer, brighter than a red rose, cooler and calmer than a blue rose too

You are the precious purple rose... :))
The Purple Rose
-Jean Lewis
Joe Feb 18
I am the ocean;
concurring ripples
rooted in my scalp,
dark waves cascading down my back
of which no one would see
the beauty within.

I am the earth
underneath your feet.
Haven of not only the living
But also the dead
of which no one would see
the beauty within

I am the painting
to be magnified to see specks of color
but, afar,
merely looks like a straight line
of which no one would see
the beauty within.

I am the sculpture
of a volatile beast
or, at the least,
its ruins
of which no one would see
the beauty within.

I am art
no one would be willing to see
despite of my obvious presence.

I am disturbing, distressing art
who’s crafted and carved from
cold hard truths
than painted
in pretty pink and purple lies.

I am the art
no one would dare appreciate
because that would mean accepting
how imperfect humans are
and imperfection
could never be art.
i got too inspired in my humanities class

Baylee Kaye Feb 12
where red meets blue,
is where my eyes always,
find you.

together it’s a daze,
dancing around this torrid place,
everything askew.

our footsteps we retrace,
looking back on our beginning,
the bottle we unscrew.

our mark we’re imprinting,
on each other’s heart.
because when red meets blue,
it cannot be torn apart.
this is about Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara not going to lie.

written 11 Feb. 2018
Britney Lyn Jan 31
Cannot sleep, all these memories are haunting me; purple and blue, a gift from you.
Will they stay? When will they fade?
To die like the happiness that seems to have left me, oh so heavy.
Take this heart, stomp out all the little pieces you created, all the pieces that you hated.
Hide my face away from the hidden, show my to only the blind.
Trust is not something that is easily given, especially from this heart of mine.
Lying on the ground, where you stuck me down; battered, betrayed, I pray for the day.
Someone save me, for I am too shattered to do so myself, someone save me from this life that is my hell.
I wrote this piece 6 years ago today.
so far away
its ripping me
we were a perfect war
with thorns of
tyrian purple
phoenician mauve
imperial dye
taking twelve thousand
for the first drop
of royal blood
to fall
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