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js Jun 2015
I speak
in black and
white —

I think
in color.
Sara Lindsay Nov 2018
I never understood what was so important about my favorite color when you wanted to get to know me when, the thing that mattered was I felt black and blue on the inside.
Angelina Mar 2016
Color, one word, thousands of references
It is an illusion, science perhaps may explain it
But people have utterly transformed its definition over the past decades
Is it pride? Is it wealth you carry within you once you are born precious yet so fragile?

Define it for me
Release the inner load of prejudiced assumptions
Passed down from generation to generation
Do not be afraid to speak your mind
For you are enlightening me
Go on, define it for me

Red, orange, blue and green
Purple, pink, white and colors we've already seen
Came in touch with, and accepted for what they seem
Whom we do not hesitate adoring, whilst waiting for what more of them there is to see

Colors, beautiful bundles of joy
Billions of them undiscovered
Yet willing to view
And yet unwilling to embrace one another solely because our skin tone is a shade darker, or a shade lighter?

I'm sorry, I thought we loved the thought of not having to unlock our gates to gardens full of plain, dark pigmented red roses
There's got to be the lighter pigmented ones and the yet to blossom ones
The ones that are yet to be labeled
By humanity's impaired vision
elle jaxsun Jul 2018
looking at
sedona red
rock layered majesties

against bright, cerulean sky
and marshmallow clouds
droplets dripping, pecking our cheeks

sitting on
the balcony of a casita
holding hands with my peace

surrounded by forest green
and buzzing honey bees
they mingle with the flowers

and i mingle with my peace
06102018
Troy Feb 2018
All i feel is time passing.
Just Moments ..
Blurred images..
Memories
Of my life..
Where did it go.  
Im Lost in a sea
Of  Turquois dream,
Waiting drowning
In its Color
Hopeless against it's
  Current's,,
I'm constantly being
Pulled against the tide
Swimming to stay alive,,
My mind is not my own.
Like most
My heart ripped and torn.
In my
Moments of  Clarity
I See the beautifully  Cruel
Sculpted hand of God
In everything.
As I drift alone in my turquoise dream
Q Dec 2016
What a question
skin woven as threads of canvas
interpret this face
quite a tapestry of biological traits
ask again like I’m not even a who
you’ll ring ring and ring
but artwork will never get back to you
Joanna Jul 8
Watching outside, I see the sun begin to set.
Framing the horizon with a warm and misty
glow, I find myself, touched to my soul.

And as day becomes evening, I am filled
with delight, taking in an explosion of color
that will soon fade from sight.
To read more of my writings go to: http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
Tanya Mar 31
dark night is the bed
to which i come
mostly late,

strip my soul,
lay it down
covered in
memories of
black and white

nostalgia dressed
in a tear-soaked mess
wetting my pillow case

i’m falling down,
asleep;

dark night
is the bed
in which you
no longer wait
for me to come
mostly late.
soon
thomezzz Sep 2018
she liked the color yellow because it calmed her
its brightness soothed her soul
and the sight of a yellow flower
always brought her joy
it illuminated her dark days
and stormy weather
it always seemed to try so hard
to be happy
A quality she could relate to

but one day, she met a boy who liked orange
a color she always said she hated
its hue too close to yellow
but too different to be enjoyed
she never wore the color orange
felt as if it drew attention to her
when she was content enough
to be invisible
in the corner of the room

her favorite color was yellow
and his was orange
but she never liked that color
with its harshness and severity
it reminded her
of traffic cones
and reflector vests
of emergencies
and warning signs

But one day, she realized
he reminded her of the color yellow
he soothed her soul
illuminated her dark days
and calmed her storms
he never seemed to try too hard
but always managed to make her smile

she realized yellow and orange
weren't that different after all
and when the two hues came together
her, perpetually the color yellow
him, forever orange
she felt like the only girl in the room

the colors yellow and orange
started to bleed together
and orange came to remind her
of fallen leaves
and clear sunsets
of butterflies
and sprinkled zest

and in time
as she grew to love him
the color orange started to become
just as beautiful as yellow
Marla Apr 20
This flame grows higher
As the days march on,
It shan't ever tire
For it rages much too strong.
In my heart, yes, in my heart
The immortal heat yearns,
Bring thy kiss and start
A sensational sweet burn.
Red is the color of passion and rage
Red is the color that keeps me turning every page.

Orange, though it seems calm, is the color of fire
It’s the color that holds all my desires.

Yellow makes me crazy and wild
But is also the color that makes me soft and mild.

Green is the color as strange as it may seem,
holds the key to my fantasies and wildest dreams.

Blue is the color of my oceans of tears
Blue is the sky with all my fears.

Indigo, although pretty, makes me miserable because it’s always
  Stuck in the middle of being happy and sad
  Stuck in the middle of being mad or glad.

Violet is last not least the color that could make me “tres triste”,
Happy or hunger for food
It is the color that decides my mood.

But what happens when all these colors bind
They make my heart
       My soul
       My mysterious mind.
Read more at http://******-in-oncology
devine Oct 2018
there are days
when everything's new
don't know who's who
but it's not all blue

there are days
when the sand burns
and i yearn
for everything occurred

there are days
when nothing can be seen
sometimes it's thirteen
but to me it's not that mean

there are days
when i finally see the worst in my best
when i never want to admit that i regret
when i never expected such test

but there are also days
when it couldn't be better
when coffee doesn't feel bitter
when the pressure only causes one error

that's when she is
when the sky isn't bright
but her smile is
when the color isn't white
but she is

with her
i always find myself in fall
both weatherly
and literally
LittleFreeBird Jan 2015
He looked down sadly
Staring at his hands
"I'm covered in heart break."
I touched his arm
And he looked up at me
"I know."
"Its the color of your eyes."
*"I know that, too."
Piece of a short story I'm writing
Kevin Feb 2017
R  adiantly
      A  bove
I  n
         N othing
  B  ut
      O  ther
        W  orlds.
              S  queezed
       
         O  range
    F  ills

A    
        N  iche.
               O   bsequios
               T   houghts
           H  inder
                       E xtraordinary
           R ealms.
          
            C aught
     O n
             L  imits
     O f
              R eality.
Bullet Oct 2018
Passing out love
Eyes closed
Seeing the world
In a view of Red

Waking up dead
Eyes opened
Seeing the world
In a view of Blues

The way these people
Belittle the energy
That can bring peace
They have mixed feelings
Seeing the world
In view of Purple

Stripped of caring and worrying
Exchanged for depression and disguises
Running from a red loved past
To obtaining blues of the present mind
The world viewing in purple
But my eyes can no longer
Hold a hue
Skylight Apr 17
I am the girl no one knows.
The one who enters and exits the room in silence.
The one whose story is unknown and dull.
I am the girl no one knows.
The one whose voice sings in empty rooms and dances in the darkness of the night.
I am the girl whose lips have never been touch.
The girl whose hands have never been held.
I am the girl no one knows.
The one with a story paint by emotions and memories.
The girl with a future waiting to be painted, and a life waiting to be drawn.
I am the girl no one knows.
I have loved.
I have cried.
I have hurted.
I have been broken and belittle.
Made a warrior from the start.
Walked among strangers standing tall like a mountain.
I am the girl walking forward in this life.
The one who one day everyone will remember, but still wonder who she was.
Lovelyn Eyo Jul 11
If I were to pick a colour
What would it be
If I were to paint the world with it
What would it stand for
What image would it portray
The world strays
Let's bring it back home
With THE LORD'S help
we paint the world
Heart and soul
with the color-
H harmony
A alluring
P peace
P perfection
Y Yielding




©LovelynEyo
Kewayne Wadley May 2018
And when I dream of you.
The pages turn.
Highlighting a million and one things.
All captivated by the sound we touched with our eyes.
Each played in beautiful melody.
I'd chase behind you.
Playing a symphony each time you'd smile.
Between the pause we were soft.
Supple.
Forgetting which one of us was sleeping.
Revealing all of our secrets.
You taught me how to sing.
Forgetting to move my mouth.
Each emotion thrown from my stomach.
When I dream of you,
I see all the colors.
So vividly played in beautiful color
We Open our eyes all the same, but through these eyes of mine life seems significantly plain.
Mixtures of black and white left everything grey, a color without meaning that seams lost and afraid.
The color has left this place they call home, but I know deep down inside I'm no longer alone.
The grey way of life is a blessing and a curse, it’s doing 130 down the highway but in the back of a hearse.
It’s a life with many loves but none of them stay.
It’s Looking down a dark tunnel and going that way.
I will live in the grey until the color in me can find its way home perfectly free.
LonelyPoet Mar 2017
You find yourself thinking in color. It permeates through every inch of what you know. Thoughts get processed in them and translated by it. Although I favor the one that shines most bright, I barely claim it. I lack of it. In fact, I come to deny it, to exclude it, rather than make it my own.

Lets think through color. Nelson lives in the reflective imposition of it. She strips it down and eats it whole. She hugs its core and stares right at it. She owns it, unlike the string of light I keep refusing.

He, she, they, constructed this. We, you, them, distort it, reshape it, bend it up, and cut it down.

It is the only lineage that connects us all. Dickinson saw the strength of the grass like your mom did and with the vision you do. But, color gets lost in translation. They used Doves to instill fear and swordsmen saw Paper as a sign of truce.

It hurts as well. Obsidian carries pain within. Marks on his back from a remote past, a past that is still dragged to the present. Obscure in its presence. Regarded as biologically distinct. Yet, we now know better, or pretend to.

Blends. Blends in, it merges, fuses, makes new. Transforms. Distorts. She made me see the core once, and it bleeds.

Not the primary but the others, from distant lands on a new canvas, filling in the outlined sketch.
Chelsea Primera Sep 2017
The city spearheads the futures we sincerely sold,
As it pluckers your pennies and your coins of gold.

I felt poor amid the auras of their fearsome metals,
Cowering in the clothes of our daily struggles.

I am destitute enough
To bleach out the interests of my cards,
To shatter your savings for a disabled future,
To rummage the stock markets for apertures.

Yet within you exhales tentacles of the color Yellow.

Yellow as in,
The scattered stars that scorch the injured sky,
The mellowing voices of neon artificial lights,
The apex of fire alight in frostbitten nights,
And the yolk of hope my cheers rely.

So while you chase the sun
with your copper-clad hands,
remember but this:

all that glitters is not gold,
It’s the color Yellow in these eyes I behold.
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