"greenish" poems
*
The girl that I like is young, quite petite, I might add
Bluish-greenish turquoise eyes, like the forest and the sea combined
Her voice, a sweet, gentle overtone; the ocean, calm waves that reach ashore
The breeze, blows the forest trees; a rustle, soothing to the human ears
Her skin that luminesces; the white sands of the Riviera Maya
Here and there, little sprinkles of darker sand on her pretty face
Her natural dark, red hair, as fiery as the midday sun,
And her lips a vibrant red, that melt you in the summer days,
So warm and cozy as the winter rays.
*
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 1:32 AM UTC
I am in levels. Past levels. This deep, intrinsic wonderful lost, the lawlessness of its fascinating expenditure of excite. Pushing through the wild and feral snow-dusted plains and timber ridges. Like red-spotted dots breathing through the cylinders called the spine. This descends into a narrow channel of scantly clad greenish scenery in a time-soaked visionary wilderness of snow,
Our crab legs dancing down wiry purple highways, our heads could not even look backwards if we had wanted.
Furious, love-latitudes, stalking breaths thwacking fork-ended tongues into a pinkish knot buried into the first layer of organic membrane on this railway of miniature canals, showing. And their pride snuck into the elbows, shooting down each vertebrae as it stepped with great precision every ledge that the currency emphasized. The raw accumulation of stolen heart-beats rattling between the interstices of new fuel careering these red engines. Crashing with exquisite pleasure into one another.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC
I like Homestuck,
Donald Duck,
Ancient Greek Gaea,
APH Hetalia,
Marzia and Pewdiepie,
Random bow ties,
Doctor Who,
That colour of greenish blue,
Sherlock Holmes,
Garden gnomes,
Boy/boy ****
Sweet tea,
Left 4 dead,
Books I've read,
Minecraft,
When I laughed,
Yu-Gi-Oh,
Gateau,
Ender's Game,
Notre Dame,
World War One,
World War Two,
Mouse and shrew,
Bugsy Malone,
Jam scones,
Birthday cake,
Milk shake,
Drawing art,
Taking part,
MLP,
Shopping spree,
Sleeping in,
West Berlin,
Random songs,
When bells go ****
Stars shine,
My blood line,
All my friends,
The latest trends,
Yuri much,
And such and such,
Fanfiction,
A prediction,
Doujinshis,
Marshall Lee,
RhymeZone,
My touchscreen phone,
I could go on,
But that's too long,
But my favourite is,
Hello poetry - so don't diss!!
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 4:59 AM UTC
Turquoise in the morning light
The treetops are alive
With the myriad of birdsong
As the swirling mists arrive
And the shaft of brilliant sunshine
Penetrates the greenish gloom
To illuminate the craggy ridge
In a honeyed, golden bloom.
The rabbits head for burrows
Retreating from the night,
A flock of teal, in unison,
Explosively take flight,
There’s a freshness in the morning air
A tingle to the skin
And the twinkle in the blue eyes
Lets a secret smile begin.
Autumn in the country glade
The russets and the gold,
The song of early crickets
In the leafy knoll takes hold,
There’s a brilliance in the crispness
In the piles of windblown leaves
And the healthy crunch of underfoot
Invokes a sense of ease.
The peacefulness is calming
The solace in the sound
Of the distant song of blackbird
In the tall oaks that surround
And the velvet feel of morning
Thrills the mind to warmly hum
To the glory of occasion
In the warmth of Autumn sun.
Marshalg
Beneath the reds and golds of Autumn leafage.
14 May 2012
© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
May 15, 2012
May 15, 2012 at 2:09 AM UTC
She was swimming for so long
so when she felt the octopus grab her arm
she thought nothing of it. Until it pulled her under
to where she was surrounded by the greenish blue tentacles.
She could see the jellyfish in the distance, the ones
she had been swimming to, for so long...
But the octopus grew on her
she began to love it.
Their love grew and grew, until the octopus swam away...
so far she could barely see it anymore.
eventually she began swimming again
but in the opposite direction, looking for it.
When she couldn't swim anymore, she slowly sank.
She was lost for days, but he found her again and wrapped her up.
But when she woke up, she was different.
And everything was faded.
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 11:30 PM UTC
You say stroll down memory lane,
I say revisiting the house of horrors.
To you, a simple memory.
To me, my worst nightmare.
It doesn't matter what time of day it is,
I'm still scared out of my mind.
It is currently 2:47 A.M and all I can think of is your smile.
Your straight and partially stained teeth have tainted my mind.
The way your appearance has changed over the years baffles me.
You used to be handsome, strong, and so caring.
Now, you've grown too thin along with your hair.
You went from bad to worse with the substance that took everything from you.
I hear you laugh from the good times we had.
I hear you scream from the bad times we had.
They both echo endlessly through my mind.
Is it bad that I can't tell which one I try to avoid more?
I miss the good times between us.
I used to cherish hearing you say you loved me.
Only because it was such a rare thing.
I can't remember what it sounds like coming from your throat.
What is a child supposed to do without a father?
You were my everything, but it seems I was not yours.
For you, your everything is the thing that'll end you.
I tried to save you but it seems you didn't want to be saved.
I fear that one day I'll forget the thinness of your hair and frame,
Too late for the feeling of your arms during an embrace.
Was it too much for you to hug me.
The eyes that I feared so much are now burned into the back of my mind.
How the whites of your eyes became more yellow each day.
How the once brown eyes are now an ugly greenish blue.
How the skin around them has sunken in.
Was I not enough?
What did I do wrong?
Was I not the daughter you wanted?
What did I do to make you treat me like that?
You act as if I hate you but that's not true.
In fact, it's the opposite, I love you.
I love you more than anything.
That's why I left, I gave up everything for you in hopes you would get better.
I guess it wasn't enough.
Nothing ever was.
Not even my scars.
I'll always love you, but I can't promise that I'll ever call you my dad again.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
Constricted in the tiny ***
this plant has lost it’s will to grow
The lightness fades inside the room
the curtain shades the greenish brown
I forgot that i was more,
than this room. this house, this place
I forgot how to transplant.
I forgot how to grow
Don’t let me wither.
Don’t abandon me in the cold.
How can i survive this potted life,
this winter,
It was easy to love me when the spring was here, and i was bright and full of wonder.
I could fill a room with bright vernal sweetness.
And then i began to blend into the wallpaper.
a perfect little wallflower.
Tendrils constrict,
and branches droop.
flowers swept away,
and bark begotten by dust and moth
Who will inherit me?
Or perhaps just an empty ***
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 7:07 PM UTC
It takes me back
It pulls me close
To itself, I cannot leave
ln my dreams
While I dose
The summer scent of mango tree
I remember well
When we were young
My friend and I hung on its arms,
Cuddling the leaves.
Now remain
Just memories, echoes of a simpler past
The flowers promised
June was close
Summer's sins would be redeemed
By the childhood paradise
Salted raw mango slice
Overarching newborn smiles
Yellow sun on green leaves
Greenish-yellow chrysoberyl
Oasis of the summertime
I remember picking them up
From the rooftop of boyhood-life
Our winged friends came, bees, monkeys too
Attempting another bite
Fond, fond memories
Mother used to cut and bring us mangoes
While I tasted the golden slice
My granny told me stories of
The tree, it stood there when they built this house
When she was eight or nine
This fruit, this taste
Connects this land
Magnifera indica
The secular deity of the mango nation
You cannot begin to understand
The gift of Indian summer
My childhood wrapped in emerald leaves
The whiff, the scent, I transcend
Time;go to an age when all was well
Or at the least, to me it seemed
As I'm taking a bite of this season's last mango
As the golden drops stick to my pubescent stache
I remember a conversation I had
The mango tree
It talked to me
No, I'm not crazy
It was the mango tree
Little things in life
Leave something
Oh!so many memories
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 5:35 PM UTC
MA KING AME-RICA GRATE AGIN
( for Brian )
"Your mum's an alien..an...
ha ha ha ha alien!"
the children chant
and taunt.
I see through tears
their sneers and hated
etched upon
their features
like a mask they
could/couldn't take off.
It is like a thousand years ago
all over again.
The Age of the thing
called Trump
when humans were both
orange and stupid.
Now we have computers
built into each whorl
facts at our fingertips
with just a finger snap
we can call up what used to be
called videos
of the Trump thing
teaching humans how to hate.
I, unlike my sisters
am not green
except for
a slight greenish
hue every now
and then.
I am more the chameleon
and can blend in.
I have the necessary arms
and the obligatory number of eyes.
Only my mum and sisters
look like a lurid 1950's comic
"THEY CAME FROM OUTER SPACE!"
yet earth would not be
here if aliens( us )had not come
to save them from themselves
back when earth had entered
the Age of Dictators
as the history apps.
quaintly put it
Now is come again
the hateful hate
ma king Ame-rica
grate again
like a mind
grinding its teeth.
I'm sorry am
the English no good
and the spelling as well
we will
have to hide behind
our mind walls
that we had to build
to keep humans out.
My mother taking me
lovingly in her tentacles
stroking me and drying my eyes
and making tea
With a snap of my fingers
I bring up my favourite video
and a Kermit hologram
floats before my face
"It's not that easy bein' green!"
and I singalong like any human being
"...when green is all there is to be."
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 5:10 AM UTC
The nights have grown cool again, like the nights
Of early spring, and quiet again. Will
Speech disturb you? We're
Alone now; we have no reason for silence.
Can you see, over the garden-the full moon rises.
I won't see the next full moon.
In spring, when the moon rose, it meant
Time was endless. Snowdrops
Opened and closed, the clustered
Seeds of the maples fell in pale drifts.
White over white, the moon rose over the birch tree.
And in the crook, where the tree divides,
Leaves of the first daffodils, in moonlight
Soft greenish-silver.
We have come too far together toward the end now
To fear the end. These nights, I am no longer even certain
I know what the end means. And you, who've been
With a man--
After the first cries,
Doesn't joy, like fear, make no sound?
3.7k
I remember lying there in the greenish sleeping bag,
Staring up at the wooden ceiling with all the dust,
The cobwebs sway in slightest amounts of air,
And falling asleep slowly, the loft so full of must.
This sinking sensation comes over me and I can see
A dark shadow in the other room, it moves across the
Doorway and looks as I call out for someone anyone
And in panic I have a total feeling of doom.
But this is just the beginning, I wake up in beads of sweat,
Is this really my life or dream, have I truly woken up yet...?
This story I hear tell of a man across the halls,
Who would walk toward the other side
At half past 12 at night as my friend recalls,
A dark visage, a shadowy veil, came out
When the daylight would subside.
The story as I recall keeps me up sometimes,
He had no eyes, again I repeat, you could see right
Through his eyes!
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 12:31 PM UTC
I sink, my feet slowly becoming part of the earth softened under the heat of my body and a shy sun rolling evenly on horizon. Lazy sun slowly extends his arms stiff from winter reluctance and expanding them into a hug. I see green meadows, still poor with colors, pale spring messengers and Harlequin's face in the glass reflection. Eyes full of ice slowly melting, just as piles of snow hidden in the spring shadows. I sink deeper into the trap of needs. My hands have become bare spring branches and wait for your smile to bloom touches. Delicate greenish flowers and young leaves will slowly wake up your eyes from the winter gloom, gentle kisses will tickle your throat and nostrils. My hands are empowered, illusive fingers gliding over your breast. I feel the beauty of the Snowdrop and already lured with memories of Violets. You open slowly like a red Tulip. Tulips are too simple for you. I see beauty of Cyclamen bathed in dew of hidden alley and I think only of sweet kisses you give. As I dive in you the Earth is not just a lump of mud in the universe and the water is not just a matter which makes it blue. While tears running down your cheeks you say they have decided themselves to come and not knowing why. Then, I stand little before you. The boy filled with dreams. Then I stand bigger than the Earth before you as you are more than water.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
heartache is
a penny, leaving
greenish glows
in the palm of my hand,
its slick caress a kiss
against the inside
of my pocket.
its weight yearns
like a kindergartener
whose voice
wasn't heard,
who knows
everything there is to know
about outer space,
something she can feel
wrinkling, biting a hole
through her chest.
and this tadpole heart,
it struggles and flails,
gulping to life
between words
it never knew
how to say.
silently,
somehow,
this monster
in my mind
falls gently asleep
with the tide.
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 2:28 PM UTC
I
Dawn
The greenish sky glows up in misty reds,
The purple shadows turn to brick and stone,
The dreams wear thin, men turn upon their beds,
And hear the milk-cart jangle by alone.
II
Dusk
The city’s street, a roaring blackened stream
Walled in by granite, thro’ whose thousand eyes
A thousand yellow lights begin to gleam,
And over all the pale untroubled skies.
III
Rain at Night
The street-lamps shine in a yellow line
Down the splashy, gleaming street,
And the rain is heard now loud now blurred
By the tread of homing feet.
3.2k
Greenish hills and alice blue skies
whimsical faeries wander along the timberlands
play hide and seek around pine groves
brimming the atmosphere with liquid of blithe.
a pair of cerulean eyes glitter under a lucid sun,
and reflected a thousand rainbows.
the feet you danced, headed forth to the ethereal grounds.
in those fleecy palms held a bouquet of fresh peonies.
as the wind huffs and grins, the fruit trees leafs begin to compose
as if in an orchestra house.
around my body flew a rabble of butterflies, your psyche is surreal.
"You came back"
I grasp to his muscular limbs, to fracture and to feel with seraphic love.
By the night the archaic moon hangs, all my dreamless night pulverized.
gory scenarios in my brain surrendered for an escape.
My heart pumps, my collarbones shrieks,
on our old bed, up-down, up-down, in-out, in-out....
"ah." the hue of a merry-go-round.
As the summer reborn, the reality seizes..
our love is immortal without a fullstop
-l.r
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 11:20 PM UTC
*Her eyes appeared as dazzling as the sea,
When she was bathing underneath the sun,
Splashing water upon her precious face,
With her tiny hands .... laughing having fun.
She was a bundle of joy,
Playing with her adorable white furry pet,
On this beautiful sizzling summer day,
And it was quite difficult to forget.
With her little bare feet,
Covered in greenish-blue waters slightly below her knees,
As I observed,
Near the lovely tropical coconut trees.
Along the shore was a small tern,
Dressed in white with yellow legs and bill,
And a black patch above its forehead,
Dancing in happiness, as we watched in thrill.*
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
This winter air is keen and cold,
And keen and cold this winter sun,
But round my chair the children run
Like little things of dancing gold.
Sometimes about the painted kiosk
The mimic soldiers strut and stride,
Sometimes the blue-eyed brigands hide
In the bleak tangles of the bosk.
And sometimes, while the old nurse cons
Her book, they steal across the square,
And launch their paper navies where
Huge Triton writhes in greenish bronze.
And now in mimic flight they flee,
And now they rush, a boisterous band—
And, tiny hand on tiny hand,
Climb up the black and leafless tree.
Ah! cruel tree! if I were you,
And children climbed me, for their sake
Though it be winter I would break
Into spring blossoms white and blue!
2.5k
On the loneliest rail and road
Is where I could see the foggy mountains
As on the trip I stare at the most smoky sky
Is where I could feel my mind at peace and calm
Of questions and imaginations.
On the widest field of grass, being greenish I layover
Is where I could see a figure of your perfect look
As the stars beaming down and as the moon illuminating away
Is when I feel like my heart beats a pound and my chest pumped a gun
Of butterflies and flowers.
And in the deepest hole of heart
Is where you unfold your love and passion
As you're lying down unfurl your affection and addiction
Here I'm sitting, giving, sharing, and holding
On hopes and an unstoppable benediction.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
i remember vaguely those times,
when solitary leaves drifted
downward, greenish earth tone
children, laughing as they twisted
and curled through the air,
touching nothing and touched by nothing
until finally resting on the floor of
the forest, together at last, forming
loose beds of disbelief only to
lie in stupor for being at the bottom
and not on high where they began.
The wind saves some of them from
their true demise, rustling many
and moving a few back up again
to freedom. Those chosen few become
the one, traveling together upward
in natural harmony as the lovebirds
of flora that forsake all but the other.
Such simplistic beauty brings tears to
the eyes to know that it began
with such sadness.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC
We walked in beauty at daybreak
a cool breeze blew through our arms
like long feathered eagle spirit wings
Sky pressed its cobalt palms
together in prayer and
bowed to the four directions
Stopping to commune with
the new baby across the street
round, gurgling Buddha face radiant
as the sun glittering above us
His mother expressed concern
over a recent viral infection he'd
just gotten over, her greenish gray
eyes beaming with maternal devotion
in the morningstar light
We continued our beauteous trek
I paused just off of Island street
to take a pine blossom bath
Thanking the noble, handsome pine
I immersed myself in the aura cleansing
prickly, tickling pine needles
A dark blue car ambled slowly pass me
wondering, "What the heck?!"
Laughing, I wandered on...
singing to the sun dancing higher in the heavens
showering the earth and all my
brothers and sisters
in Golden Beauty
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
Summer fell in pale midnight
With ice crystals answering the nomads plight
When silence fell on deafened ears
A heart was impaled by ruby spears
A kingdom of dust with castles of bone
Risen amidst ruins of blackened stone
Demons falling from heavens high
Weeping at their brother's sight
Then golden blood streamed and flowed
In rivers where kings fearfully bowed
A giant struck by lightning's blaze
Glimmering in his flaming haze
Burning, burning, he slowly dances away
And a knight in the armour of dragons to slay
Hunted by wolves with greenish gaze
Is desperately searching for a safe place
Fairies of burns float through the air
Surrounding the phoenix's heir
Golden diamonds grow out the trees
And scatter in the ashy black breeze.
A king atop his throne of wood
Laughing madly about his brotherhood
Oblivious of the strange smoke
Rising from his burning choke
His nose burns away, he no longer smells
So he doesn't know about his hollow shell.
War after war ravages his beautiful lands
Waged by his corpse's stiff, dead hands
A bird flies in the mountain's halls
Trapped by it's stony walls
A cage, a cage, his voice bides
A cage safe from the demonic tides
The serpent's fang bitten in a hero's knee
Who lost his valour and tried to flee
Justice is carried out only by death
And in this world, there's no longer breath
Amidst it all, a young man stands
Looking at his icy flames
A smile stealing upon his face
Behold!, This is the madman's grace
Jan 13, 2023
Jan 13, 2023 at 6:11 AM UTC
The sun greets softly in the morning stage
Ricefield carpet so greenish refreshing the melancholy eyes
It's time to wake up
Birds orchestra with sound of water flowing can be heard
Such a nice music of nature
The wind blew the rhythm so the trees are dancing
Celebrating the beautiful days as usual
Life has just begun
Under the roof of the pretty blue sky
The farmer goes to his field
Walking on a wooden bridge with cadence
through a cheerful river below
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
there may
or may not
exist
certain colours
that the human eye
is unable
to see
an insipid
blueish-yellow
an unpalatable
greenish-red
each said
to be impossible
for our eyes
to process;
if seen
it could appear
in all manner
of forms
but would remain
indescribable
they say that
butterflies can see
the ultraviolet spectrum
and that
the honey bee
sees in infrared;
and so
it would not
be too absurd
for a person
to dismiss
the "impossible"
to believe
in the possibility
of the as-yet
unseen
although
scientifically
the only way
to perceive
these "forbidden" hues
is through trickery
and constraint
by forcing the brain
into seeing both
antagonistic colours
simultaneously
and
without reprieve
until the border
between
the opposing shades
finally dissolves
there may be
a truth
but it is hidden
somewhere between
the plausible
yet impalpable
and the proven
yet proselytised
May 2, 2022
May 2, 2022 at 11:30 AM UTC
She was 9.
Several steps to the right, she discovered the bolddboldepth of her constant sadness.
Those plastboldiboldc stars on the ceiling fought it out, using the plaster as a battlefield.
Shifting, every few seconds, blending cries and screams with glowing shapes.
Their pointed fiboldvboldes click-clacked as she gazed in awe.
Greenish-yellow geometry soaking up the tears.
Words she couldn't understand belted boldoboldut.
The anger was astonishingly real.
There was feaboldrbold, but also strange curiosity.
As she pondered, she drifted back to sleep.
"We must solve this puzzle before the sun finds us, this is our last boldcboldhance for hope"
And with that they disappeared.
From the skyline above her bed.
From the windows.
From hboldeboldr memory.
She was 9.
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 1:42 AM UTC
- God knows. I want a love that is like sleep.
-Why should love be like sleep?
-I don’t know - so that it is like death.
~(D.H. Lawrence - Women in Love)
High sun, like lightening, licks upon the illimitable lake,
Lustre like winks of shattered glass at noon;
Propels gentler warmth into the swimmer’s wake
And she sails in absence among the salt of loves several months overdue.
But it seems, the softness of a wave presses its face against her,
As would a crying animal. Soon her wounds swoon
Gulping in yielding glory the mineral blur
And closing their infant mouths in cowardice as at confession.
For she has a front-row ticket to the drowning light,
Watches in tepid woe the greenish circles ebb in funeral song
As the horizon paints itself black in grief. It no longer charms her plight
To think of the sky as sea; you told her to watch the boats where they are
In order to define the end of the earth, and now she is no longer afraid,
Because she knows that you once were, and she’s on paper somewhere.
And now she packs up her let down town, wishing she stayed
Somewhere closer to the sea and the precipice of loving you.
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 9:21 PM UTC