"cyan" poems
i am the colors of the sea.
bright Cyan,
Sunny and see through,
No secrets or scars.
Six feet under,
But can still see,
The stars.
Coral reef Pink,
full of life and of Heart.
The color of kindness,
where all beautiful things start.
Sea foam green,
Bubbling anger,
Act without thought.
Falling from heaven,
my emotions,
in knots.
Midnight blue,
Thoughtful and quiet,
Daylight fleeting behind us.
reflecting
a sky sprinkled with,
star dust.
A cascading rainbow of emotions and color.
All the shades of me, complimenting one another.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC
There's not quite a face like yours
No one else but me adores
Mapped out, pinned inside my head
Still think of you when I lay in bed
I asked if we could get a picture
You obliged and said, "Okay, sure,"
Your braces cyan at that time
Wished right then that you'd be mine
Then you left and went to places
Red was the color of your braces
Last time, you got to Singapore
Back home I rotted to the core
Saw you then not too long after
Give or take just one year later
Turned my head back, saw your smile
Happiest I've felt in a while
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
You look so lovely
In blue
Arched back
Arms slack
Cerulean licks
Wrist to wrist
Shoulder dip
Eyes languid
Cloudy cyan
Gripping blankets
Robin’s silky velvet
Billowing, curling
Unfurling into
Midnight hues
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
*Angel torches
filter sunlight
across a vast
horizon
of sea foam
petticoats.
Where
topaz touches
glittering
cyan
&
spirals
downwards
through the
deepest dark
blues - no body
can exist within
jewelled sapidity.
*
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 4:04 PM UTC
Here at Kinkos
We have a saying, “copies of copies”
You are trained to always ask for a source file
The digital file of the picture the camera took
The negatives of digital cameras
You see because when you print a picture from that file it’s the best it will ever be
Every detail captured in that moment stored in bits and bytes ready
If you make a copy of that picture it will never be as good
And if you make a copy of that copy it’ll be even worse
And if you were to make a copy of the hundredth copy of the ninety ninth copy you might not even recognize the image
Whether it’s a speck of dust on the scanner
Or a crease in the print out
Sun stains from prolonged exposure to the elements
Or simply from time
Copies never look as good as the original
Even if you try and protect them
And even if you were to magically protect that photo from any external forces
The next copy still won’t be the same quality
A scanner can never pick up every detail from the print on the glass
Copies of copies are never the same
Sometimes the printer is calibrated different
Sometimes it’s a heavy magenta day
Sometimes it’s a saturated cyan day
Maybe you touched her face when you handed it over
And now every copy has a feint of your thumb print above her eyebrow
You had him taped to your rearview mirror for a whole year
And now every copy you make has a glare where the tape used to be
It blocks out his heart shaped hands he was making you from the bus window
Folded in your wallet and now all the copies have white spaces where her face was
I mean where the creases were
I’ve heard that when you remember something you are simply remembering the last time you remembered it
Memories of memories
So that after you’ve remembered her a thousand times you’ve forgotten all the details you forgot to remember the time before
So that the more you remember something, the faster you’ll forget
Maybe that’s why we forget exes faster than family
Maybe that’s why we forget the great parts of high school before the painful ones
I remember that you had red hair, that your eyes were kind, that your hands fit my cheek
I remember that you were bad at pool and that it felt like love, and if it wasn’t you’re the only one that knew it
And now I’m wondering after all these years what I’m forgetting to remember
What I forgot to remember last time
What did I forget this time
What won’t I remember next time
Memories of memories
Like copies of copies
Fading over time
If I never wanted to forget the best moments of my life
Should I never remember them
Is the fastest way to forget the bad ones
To remember them often
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC
I take my imaginary pen
I write down my anger
I close my eyes and count to ten
just to breathe a little longer
It's laughable really
when I see you justifying
Sure, you're all touchy-feely
only goodwill, so hard-trying
When you said that to me
where was your heart at?
Why calling me your better-half-to-be
when all you wanted was a shoulder pat?
Oh you, with your wonderful poetry,
oh, lies so beautifully written down
please just stop, you don't know no poverty
in your emerald sea everything you wanted me to believe is to drown
I never thought you would make me think
the worst of you instead
And I swear I could only stand and stare and shrink
when you didn't care to lose your head
Now you haunt me like the headless horseman
and you will forever
but I do not worry for my sanity, oh boy of thoughts turned cyan
I walked with ghosts before and a headless one is so less clever
And if you ever come back looking for this head of yours
Think twice, try a little bit harder wannabe
It might stick out of the sand at your emerald sea shores
Your love for me was never poetry
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 11:06 AM UTC
emerald, olive, viridian
oh how you perplex me
forest, jade, chartreuse
why do you tease me so
cyan, verdigris, moss
such excitement arises
to be a word
to be a meaning
is there such a thing,
to have a feeling
to see a vision,
phthalo, pine, teal
are you the same
mint, myrtle, laurel
you make me envious
to be blooming, to be healthy
to be young, to be clumsy
are you callow, how about credulous?
but such a conservationist
unquestioning, so trustful,
tenderfoot and common
the tree, the lawn, the willow
though ecological and crude
a sage in all but name
apple, spinach, pea
aren't you scrumptious,
lime, kelly, bice
are you nature, how about luck
you're pungently rotten
though with such dark beauty and hope,
love and lust ensues
you're the jolliness of balance
and the creative intelligence;
of evil, and decay of money and safety,
will you resurrect me, are you immortality?
such jealousy arises
high goals and honor
so so allusive
healing and vitality
you're calming though fast
lush spring stability,
abundant generosity,
vert vegetation; witchcraft
an aphrodisiac I hear,
are you youth or fading youth?
sunrise and life, growth and fertility
sacred ideology,
eroticized though shameful
so romantic and humble
I see the third ray
or is the the fifth ray, the third eye
are you truth, are you vision
it's becoming a science,
so much compassion
the fourth chakra, the heart,
the centre of us all
a higher consciousness
such a harmonious aura
a hunter, a nurse, a solider, an outdoorsman
villains and superstition
misfortune and prosperity
with toxicity, sickness and death,
recycle and reuse
oh so powerful
you exude auspiciousness
just a holiday
mystical fairies and spirits
though also devilish,
cancer in the stars
a renewal of paradise,
biliously tranquil
are you refreshingly soothing,
peacefully restful,
a naive novice,
very understanding,
is there truly a term for you?
what do you really convey,
countless representations
a definition of name,
or do you signify the feeling, the specimen
the aspect?
though some have no locution for you
here I am,
stepping around the issue
you are you, in any word
yet with a different meaning
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 10:01 PM UTC
*with hope and light
beneath enchanted magical trees
turned heavy white
on a river side
of sandy beige
a happy face of golden egg-less yolk
shining in the sky of cyan
to have a sunny day of orange
in the winter of grey
blue sky warming my heart of red
on a cold day
rainbow birds chirping songs of love
silver breeze flowing cold and steady
unable to consume the warmth from my brown eyes
as I go blind
with the light of your pale face
so perfectly encompassed between
the curls of inky black and maroon lace
and your pink smile
adding colour to the blank canvas of my mind
you're so beautiful!
what I see is a wonderful artistry of nature
that is skilfully crafted with perfection
colours and words find difficult to give it expression
how your precious pearls of sapphire
placed gently inside the seashells
that draws me in
& I can't resist to dive within
so all I want is to drown
and be lost in their depths
while I keep looking at you
until the azure ether wraps itself
in a mahogany hue
and the day drapes a coat
of starry dust in coal*
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
Venice is cyan
in the soft, early morning
The canals look clean
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC
Her shell's not so gorgeous
But she is beautiful, that's obvious.
She's such smiler
Who revives the freshness to a miler
And her cyan attire ...
Oh ! that just takes the breath away !!
Let's see her life from his* view
He might be wrong as he is new
New in describing her in few
Few words won't be perfect as morning dew.
She was a girl like anyone of you
She too had a dream changing the world to anew
She could have done this forsaking a few
A few whom she called her Pearl and her dew
She had to be an ice for her dew
She had to shell and protect her pearl
She cares for the rest, who have done their part and made her a girl whom she knows as her.
But her start was such she had to move,
To be a dew and be a shell
To make **** sure that no-one fell,
Heart swollen, teary eyes she bid them all melancholous good-bye.
During her flight she might would've thought, if somehow this **** plane could've stopped
She'd hug her love so **** tight
Be pampered as kid who'd fight
Fight to see his care again.
Coz fight does show that you care like rain.
Three years since that flight, her love is gone.
She scoops out popcorn out of a cone
Besides probably a person with whom she seeks
That love, care and respect which she needs.
Now she knows when the sun sets in
And shows her path the reality lies within
That path is sure for all, it's hard
But she travels this path with a smiling facade.
Still lies inside her a childish girl
Who wants to play and rock the world
But this world is not an easy place
She knows it now to her every breath.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 3:46 AM UTC
Over royal tombs and palace walls,
moonlit dreams spread whispers of the rising sun.
Come to me says the sirens song
*Come to me, lay down your sword, lay down your shield
Come to me*
Shadowy figures gather within the dark spots of her eyes
to share secrets of why she can't see.
Vision stolen by the greatest of thieves,
capable of stealing things that aren't yours to begin with;
Nor anyone elses.
But when the stars come down to kiss goodnight
and she rests her head on the softest planets,
sprawling across galaxies, wrapping her body-less soul in a warm nebula,
the sweetest dreams will cradle her new born thoughts,
tugging at the strings to her wings,
drowning out every siren that sings and brings their destruction
with out having to touch them.
Standing on rooftops chanting paganisms toward the heavens
like a heathen taunting the sky fire.
And it comes,
like the rain from home it comes;
It always does.
And as the gentle sunrise graces her face,
lighting up and opening the windows to her soul
I see that it's burning cyan-hazel flames;
Make moonlit dreams become sun soaked realities
Jan 25, 2011
Jan 25, 2011 at 9:31 AM UTC
let's be honest
sometimes I turn
towards the wall at
night and close my
eyes, I can see your
hairline, a fracture
of scoliosis in your
curved spine, I can
almost trace
the bumps of
your vertebrae
through that
thin cotton
sweater
let's be honest
you start to turn over
before I lose you in the
geometric dark, sometimes
our eyes play tricks on us and
we see colors, well, sometimes
mine play jokes and I see you.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC
my eyes are not
pixelated to only
cyan . magenta . yellow . black
there is more than a
spreadsheet
within me
more than that in
YOU
so don't let them
SELL YOU SHORT
are you a
cyan . magenta . yellow . black
spreadsheet?
or a
RAINBOW?
SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) October 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
Poets go blind from writing by moonlight,
But my artist smites the moon with her luminance,
I write by her subtle, cyan, rays
And would gladly go blind for, with her, my eyes find their fill quickly,
She is the unexpected wind bouncing off the water’s surface,
And my chest is the sail,
Lifted, pushed, expanded and fulfilled to its most righteous purpose,
If the world is a stage than she is the red velvet curtain,
Commanding a sway so slight and savory
That other rags rent and burn,
No matter how mesmerizing the performance is,
A sudden hush or vibrant ovation is demanded in her wake,
A sultry swirl of goddess and girl,
Too precious to be stored with other jewels,
Elegance with every hinting glance, every rowdy inhale,
And every placement of those sinister legs,
That rams would think twice to scale,
The bend in her back is the stroke of my oils,
The pout of her lips is scarlet meat to the lions,
And the feel of her hips sum up my surreptitious desires,
Like good jazz things seem to pull back
Before the cathartic crescendos,
But to put it bluntly dear, the next time you’re here,
It may pay to freshen up with a Mentos.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
Under those bridges like ladders, we walked and we slept,
With the lives that we picked apart and the pieces we kept,
A backwards world gone broken, pieces falling down like rain
Shiny shattered shards of ruin, but the reflection will remain,
And she waits and she watches, slowly licking at her fur,
Maybe we wake up to dream, maybe the path crosses her,
Sleeping under blankets in summer, open umbrellas indoors,
But can’t go back to teenage sunsets, can’t fight our parent’s wars,
It will take time, maybe our whole lives, but everything for now,
Dangling from the end of her string with a sick sweet meow,
And the only thing I need to know is if old men still dream,
When silence is golden, am I worth my weight in a scream?
Seeking a world with cyan skies where Fridays only come in twelves,
We saved yesterday for tomorrow, but still can’t save us from ourselves,
Seven more years, six more months, one last day and then through,
As the thought finally occurs that it was me crossing you.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 11:51 AM UTC
rushing riptide steely cyan white tips
on iron monsoon walls cutting through ships
as elegant as any,
but I
now
start
to
see
that
this tidal
wave sadly is
crashing towards me
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
*in purple haze of reverie, the gentle visitor came
beckoning kindly…come, come to
our V I R I D I A N world* . . .
1.
On our cerulean sphere
You need have no query, nor fear
We open our non-gravity planet to guests
Even unlikely earthlings who pass the simplest flaxen-test.
2.
Much less needed, we bedaub
Our flavescent lava-vision, going beyond the orb
Mild kaleidoscopic fandango-swirls is our mossy cyan-matter
Triplet-hue colours felt only by the revered and well-known mad Hatter.
3.
To let you in on the cosmic-latte ripple
Our flowers range from acid-green to African purple
Blast-off bronze flora dance-blaze in burnt sienna fields
Alabama crimson rocks and aureolin skies over anti-flash white seas.
4.
We confabul8 with deer, breezes, plumes
Such creatures roam free, for we do not consume
As slumber befalls us not, you wonder how we spend time
Frolic in universal peace; to welcome home stars as our rhyme.
*you are so welcomed, celestial guest
Vortexiamus awaits
only
you*
S T, 28 july 2013
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 5:50 PM UTC
As I sip succulent absinthe
from the mouth of a cyan sea,
I succumb to a seductive grin
and sell my soul to thee.
There it is, a dappled smirk,
on your sinful lips as well,
and now that you are willing,
we have a tangled tale to tell.
Come now my sweet euphoria.
Caress me in your kiss.
Send me a twisted alibi
and wrap me in utter bliss.
I am the tainted murmur,
I am the nimbus quick,
and as one, we are miasma,
to the sickest of the sick.
Your skin a sweet oasis,
my hands a greedy verve,
the sense of touch engulfs us,
and we muster up the nerve.
No couple more visurient,
none filled with more desire,
no passion burning brighter
than that which we perspire.
We slow from our nirvana,
and slumber into mist,
dreaming of how it all began
with one etherial kiss.
By: Kevin Kurt Nepomuceno
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
Cyan
has such a brackish mark
upon your passive visage-
it transfigures boldly, tempestuously
any average glance flung facetiously in my direction.
Dearest Rogue Element,
You invigorate all other
salient features.
Like the slip of a blunt knife,
you surge open your soul, compelling
any audacious personality to bleed through the wound of your
gaping irises.
You betroth yourself to
the Fascinating, the Creative,
and like the cascade of clearest french horn lamentation-
you stir my
emotions with a mournful compassionate caress.
And that’s the difference.
The mellow mahogany of my eyes
provides the most loving background for Light to
reflect her dancing valiance with reverent adoration.
But-
your Blue
will
forever
stride as the
arrogant foreground.
Commanding and eternally vexing, (captivating) me
with your gaudy juxtaposition
of angry intensity
and poignant serenity.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 4:11 AM UTC
with ann.
side table holds the milk,
sugar, napkins, all agreed.
it is cyan.
his portriat is cyan,
cut carefully, a little younger,
dylan.
little garden, summers day,
her plant is mullein.
sandwiches and prunes
after aberystwyth school of art.
a splendid day, a very splendid cabinet.
sbm.
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC
Home Depot does not sell azure paint.
No. They do have Morning Sky,
Tropical Lagoon, Morning Breeze,
Ocean Cruise, Cozumel, Empress Teal,
Almost Aqua, and Navy. But no azure.
No cyan, either. No plain ol' blue.
I will take my verdant money elsewhere.
Home Depot should be more poet friendly.
r ~ 4/29/14
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC
After the screams
I was coming undone,
splitting at the seams.
I hauled all my watercolors
out of my brother's office.
I took the paintbrushes
and palettes of a thousand hues
lodged between his camo army vest
and his heavy shoes
and I sprawled out in the
spinach-green living room.
I painted
willow trees and silhouettes
and viridian snakes spilling from ***** lips.
At 2am I got up
headed to the deck
and watched the stars
Because sometimes I forget.
I let my nights
be slaughtered by sobs.
These nights, this view
It’s mine, you can’t have it.
Everyone needs a place
and this is mine,
this tiny nirvana,
2 o'clock constellations
in the dark purple bruise of night
are my home.
A pool of watercolors,
magenta, cyan, indigo, emerald and cerulean,
swells in my chest,
in the empty space between my lungs.
A drowning, a baptism.
Everywhere, in everything,
your unblinking ghost.
It refuses to dissolve.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 2:20 AM UTC
Tell me of a time
When like a bluebird I sang
Lilting elegance and innocence
For I can't recall
What it was like
To fly free
Whipping winds caress
Blue feathers.
Blue feathers
Rough hands
Cold hearts
Blue was stained black so long ago
No trace of cyan
No aquamarine
No cerulean hue
Indian ink ****** upon wings
Soaking like tar puddles
Sticking feet to floor,
Turning such body into
Toxic/cancer cage
The vulture stands just outside
Pecking at bluebirds heart
Such devil would feel of stone
Killing a mockingbird~
A mortal moral sin.
Fresh dawn and rain washes black feathers
Slowly, but surely nonetheless
Maybe one day
Blue will blend on blue again
Wafting fragrant flowers bloom
And vulture starve on happiness
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC
Everybody said we were erstwhile, rather quaint
and could never pay our back rent ?
You listen to the silence of seashells
I grow colchicums for nurseries.
I often inquired what was your favourite animal
You always replied "Ursine"
something to do with Bears ?
Perhaps we should voyage to Newfoundland
and see them face to face,
recalling the word "Reseverez Vite"
Would that be any quicker ?
and dry your eyes
I love talking to you in the cyan light.
Often I thought a cup of Guayacanera
could tide our differences.
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 5:18 PM UTC