"hues" poems
beware when you fall in love
with an artist
be it a painter, a singer, or poet
for the artist will
paint you
with strokes and hues
in shapes of every kind
sing about you
with heartbreak lyrics
and feelings which rhyme
write about you
with the simplest words
and a secret message she wants to say
beware of the artist,
and her love
one wrong move
and you're an artwork in her display
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 6:01 AM UTC
#
*paint me
with the wet tickle
of your tongue
lingering with affection
savoring my fervent flavor
in bold strokes
of your obsession
color my essence
in heated hues
sending shivers
down my spine
in anticipation
of your warm breath
against my flesh
with every blissful caress
to ensue painted petals
of animation
with your supple lips
gently blur the lines
of my curved hips
softly stroking
the subtle shadows
of warm depth,
blushing
quivering thighs
as I gasp
of breath
plunge in
a primer coated palette
dipping your stiff paintbrush
deep within
the folds of my blanket
manipulating
a trembling image
of your voracious lust.
craze me
again and again
in breathless
****** glow,
your sensual brushstrokes
gently murmuring
layer on layer
in alla prima flow
delve deep
into my eyes
paint splattering
the passion
of my soul
drizzling silken strands
of love
in their entirety,
polishing me whole
and then
in blissful backwash
admire
the tangled limbs
interposed
of your
completed masterpiece
in smiling
sated repose*
#
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
People are just as lovely
as sunsets,
Beautiful hues of pink,
will seep from their pores.
Astonishing shades of orange,
may flow from their hands.
Purple and blues
slide from their eyes.
You just have to be watching
at all the right times.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 3:08 PM UTC
#***It poured a heavenly rain today
The roads washed anew
Little streams danced and slid down the alleys to the music rains play
The Gulmohar petals in orange red hues
Lay strewn on the pavement grey
Perched atop the green leaves
Glorious they looked in the warm sun rays
A walk in the evening mellowed rains
The tiny raindrops fell gently upon my face And raincoat peach
Luminous under the street lamps
Silvery Rain-beams dance***#
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 6:10 AM UTC
Oh, bucolic pastorale,
Dawn brings a carnival,
Golden-pink, sunrise hues,
What a wonder for our view,
Dawn draws back her veil,
Night vanishes, sunlight's grail,
Our skies aflame,
End nocturnal games,
Oh, bucolic pastorale,
Dawn brings her carnival.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 10:43 PM UTC
~-English-~
The Beauty Of Flowers (Multiple Tankas I)
A field of tulips
Is where I laid down to sleep
And dream a sweet dream
Dew sparkled on the tulips
And fell upon my fair cheeks
In the shady woods
Ladyslipper Orchids grow
Near a babbling brook.
Yellows and Pinks standing tall
With ferns spreading all around.
Beside the ocean
The hibiscus are blooming
Such a sweet perfume
Lingers on the salty breeze
Such beautiful rainbow hues
Snowdrops are the first
To appear blooming in frost
Pure white heads nodding.
Cold hardy and full of life,
They offer a hope of Spring.
Beside the farmhouse
Gardenias are blooming
White satin blossoms
Their perfume is breathtaking
Rain-washed petals of fragrance
~Timothy & Marian~
~-French-~
La beauté des fleurs (plusieurs Tankas je)
Un champ de tulipes
Est où j'ai prévue de dormir
Et un doux rêve
Rosée brillait sur les tulipes
Et tomba sur mes joues justes
Dans les bois ombragés
Ladyslipper orchidées poussent
Près d'un petit ruisseau.
Jaunes et roses debout
Avec fougères répand tout autour.
À côté de l'océan
L'hibiscus sont en fleurs
Tel un doux parfum
S'attarde sur la brise salée
Ces teintes belle arc-en-ciel
Perce-neige est les premiers
À comparaître fleurissant en gel
Têtes blanches pures hochant la tête.
Résistantes au froid et pleine de vie,
Ils offrent un espoir de printemps.
À côté de la ferme
Gardénias sont en fleurs
Fleurs de satin blancs
Leur parfum est à couper le souffle
Pétales restés du parfum
~ Timothy et Marian ~
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
*Some fleeting moments pass by-
like golden hues
carrying magic
that is only felt
when all comes to an end.*
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
It's beginning...
As my day matured into the tangerine sun.
Familiar feelings effortlessly conjured as the same old tales were spun.
Some came in hues of marmalade
Traces of citrus that left in haste.
Initial sweetness on the palate that would fade
Only making way for a bitter aftertaste.
A few were wrapped in tints of ginger.
A jolt-like sensation that spoke...
Intense and unmistakable in nature.
Like glowing embers engulfed in latent flames and smoke.
Several bore the colours and scent of marigold
Boasting of orange petals whimsically waving to the clouds...
Whispering hints of rumours from days of old,
Days of when mine was the only silent face in a boisterous crowd.
The ones forged in bronze were few and hardly said.
Like the only compelling excerpt embedded within infinite chapters.
Hidden words in plain sight strung together boldly in red.
Rubies cast carelessly in the swiftest of rivers...
It is beginning...
The end of today as the sun grew redder...
I'd bide the sands of time as it slips away into forever...
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:33 AM UTC
.
In a costume of conflicting emotion,
of crossing diamondic colour,
with regal posture in grief,
the Harlequin and the King,
a display of opposites
creating a composite being,
that eases her body
gently into the waiting water,
to float away serene,
on her journey to the nether.
Midnight blue and emerald green,
the regalia of ermine,
both ostentatious and humble,
robeing the aspects,
understated in crowning splendour,
the gentleman King bows,
and the Harlequin laughs,
the bi-polar reaction
to the tragedy of misfortune,
with a sting in the myth-tale.
With the dark hues of mourning,
a legend passes on her way,
across the streams of time,
on a voyage to discover herself,
carrying her Harlequin in a purse,
holding her King to her breast,
owning them both in her heart,
the medicine wheel spins,
knowing the grapes of wrath
yield the wine of spite.
The motley speckles of attire,
a starry parody of night skies,
lighting the decorated funeral barge,
gliding along the rivers of space,
worn with the mantle of sorrow,
and it sails into the sunset,
as the Harlequin and King observe,
the mandala turns,
the bier of the Queen departing,
bears their sadness forth.
The Harlequin laughs and laughs 'til he cries,
his heart grows cold, then withers and dies,
whilst the King, statuesque, memoirs his life,
lamenting the legend of a Queen, his wife.
© Pagan Paul (24/07/18)
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 5:51 AM UTC
~ Ode to Spring ~
Cherry blossoms filled with bloom
rhododendron’s sweet perfume
warming winds feign summer’s breeze
songbirds singing from the trees
Open windows, déjà vu
sunsets filled with graceful hues
families gather on their strolls
Mother Nature for the soul
Baseball season at the park
evenings lifted from the dark
daylight savings' finally here
patios for wine and beer
Cleaning house and planting seeds
rebirth fills the days and deeds
picnic baskets, hummingbirds
poets find their way in words
Kaleidoscope of bedding plants
shorts in favour over pants
farmers markets, garage sales
power-wash the decks and rails
Hiking, tennis, gardening
inhale the freshness of the spring!
painters, sculptors shape their art
gather here with grateful hearts
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 1:15 PM UTC
#*Here comes the day
With coloured hands and faces
To the music we sway
Touch not with intentions perverse
Its Holy
The festival of colours
Children
Gear up with your water guns and sprinklers
Filled with organic colours
No chemicals please
Look for revellers dressed in all white
Drench them all in the hues of the rainbow bright
Munch on the Gujia, a sweet treat
Time for a rain dance to the desi beats
It's time to cheer
Spring is right here
Happy Holi*#
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 5:26 AM UTC
*erstwhile a halcyon extant universe incessantly ceaseless
cradled itself in hues of violet phosphorescence
laced with cobalt shimmering stars
perpetually whole it nonetheless
sought to know itself
encompassing all that is bubbling over in effervescent ebullience
intertwined with indescribable catastrophic splendor
it shattered into tens of millions of splinters
of eloquent efflorescent light
shining in the night
each splinter heretofore imbued with sempiternal felicity
began to conjure sumptuous dulcet elixirs
furtively seeking out savory emollients
to mollify the pique of separation
plummeting they fell
into monstrous competition seeking demesne they lost the purpose
of gaining awareness and intelligent consciousness
surreptitious estrangement overflowed
deluging them in excruciating agony
thus an epiphany was born
the carving of the beleaguered fragments inked with tremendous pain
created a transfiguration of splinters to crystals
hence enlightenment commenced as the gems
magnetized together constructing a world
where omnipotence shines
the ineffable beauty formed by the reintegration of crystals
far exceeds the original as they dazzle with universal light
bursting from diamonds etched in deep wisdom
flooding the firmament with kaleidoscopic
rainbow strobes cascading the sky
©2016janetaylor
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
I.
No, don't go now. Please
don't go now; the fog is creating ghosts
out of people and we're breathing clouds out of our mouths.
Tell me about that time when you held your breath
under the lake for six years and still survived;
tell me how if I do that, it'll never work.
*I'm not a sea God
any more.*
II.
My knees tell better stories than my tongue
ever did, please don't; wretched hive harangues
the mind in a plague, can't you see I'm holding you down
and telling you you're all I ever wanted,
you're all I ever wanted; your head is the stuff of dreams
you're all I ever wanted; you can put your arm
right through me and only feel mist;
I am fog. I'm creating ghosts out of you.
III.
Make it up to me in a rainbow of hues of grey;
at the end of it I'm holding my ribs open. I've never
been more colourful and sad at the same time.
You're the mirrors to my house; stay
has always sounded better than don't go
yet neither seems to work anymore.
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 10:15 AM UTC
Backdrop of hues from heaven's palette
Two silhouettes stood hand in hand
A pair so in love on their deserted islet
Only witnesses were the sky and the sand
Two silhouettes with roles of lovers
Frolicked forever in the setting, evening sun
Only they'd know what laid under covers
Secrets of pure passion in their blood did run
Their merriment presented bare in a playful dance
Two silhouettes engulfed in their own private universe
Kisses and embraces offered in a reciprocative trance
Dark lips matched the other's voiceless whispers
Two silhouettes then dissolved with the set of sun
Strained my eyes to unravel this sweet shadow clad mystery
Last few moments pierced through like a shot from a gun
Because I realised that one was you while the other wasn't...
me...
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 8:35 AM UTC
the daisy in the vase
sits by the window
with its feet dipped in water
its drooping head
drinking in sunshine
yet
it doesn’t stop
the blush pink from
littering the countertop
in hues of brown
leaves now,
shrivelled prunes
ripe of its
existence
love me
love me not
the daisy in the vase
remains only
a single stalk.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
* * * * *
* * *
*
Faces of friends, of people i met earlier
are glittering stars on this late evening's
dark blue sky...their smiles are tattooed
in my mind...they're hunched, going
lower by the days...slowed down by years.
it must be hard and painful...the arching,
the drooping of the neck, the curving spine,
they endure all, 'til each day's end...they rise
each new dawn...do what they still can do,
lest they stagnate in their aging ponds,
diminish to a state, where food, pills, or
forgotten information are forced on them,
......like drugs, injected into the veins
........................
these wee hours bring back the years...
they have been good...never mind the
hard times...there were, there are good ones
life is a long, wide stream of changing hues,
flowing on and on....my water bears the
colors each new day brings...gray, at times
with sadness and gloom....other days,
blacked by despair...some summers, red,
roseate with glee, or green with life and
hope...blue, when trust is spilling, and
the tranquil sea and sky overwhelm,
with a promise of stability..........white,
when accepting......the unacceptable...
........................
the amber grains and i, are alike
ripened enough to be plucked
be pulled out from an existence...the
signs are known...shown...yet, i wait
for when it is due to happen...and while
waiting, the stalks sway, play and dance
and enjoy the sun and wind...and i,
while i still can...walk, jump, climb hills
and valleys in this mammoth space
of land and water.............called life
...................
the sounds of my days, i still hear,
i am a lute, a harp, a cello...playing
off-key.....out of tune at times,
my strings are my graying hair,
i still can't stop dying the gray
i still want to highlight the dark,
but, one day, all these will cease...
............
one night, my face will be in one of those
many stars...glittering on a dark blue sky
sending a smile, to my loved ones.
...................
(there is no other way,
but forward
all are headed
towards an end.)
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
June 26, 2018
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 11:31 PM UTC
incorrect
something that should have
never been
incorrect
a being of disillusioned
experiences and truths
inaccurate
proportions and measurements which
define me as a logical fallacy
inaccurate
colors and hues which
do not correspond with my inner being
imprecise
ideas and beliefs spilled onto a canvas
with little to no direction
imprecise
translations of my true self
with no attempt to fix it
mistake
didn't think it through
because I didn't think I had to
mistake
didn't predict the real outcome
because I thought they'd understand
failure
with nothing more than a swift brush stroke
and some applied use of sense of self
failure
was the only thing I could think of
as I opened my eyes by the burning candle light
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 2:46 AM UTC
my ears refuse to hear, and my mind refuses to believe such:
"a woman should not-!"
"a woman cannot-!"
"a woman shall never-!"
"no woman is better than-!"
horrendous words from irrational people.
a woman can sit however she wants to - crossed legs or like how men do,
a woman can wear whatever she wants to - size, length, style don't define her; the woman herself is the beautiful view,
a woman can drink, smoke, cuss, and can say no to whoever - you may be on level two, but she is too,
a woman has the every right to be treated like a human,
a woman has the every right to go beyond the four walls,
a woman has the every right to cross the limiting borders,
because we are the women,
we are more than the color red; more than our crimson red cheeks; our bright red lips; our vaginas; our period; our polished nails.
we are fierce as the orange fire, bright as the yellow sun, wild as the forest greens, beautiful as the blue reefs, and got purple hues in our skin.
we are rainbows more than just its beautiful colors -
the rainbows you sometimes fail to appreciate -
women are the rainbows that will never raise the white flag.
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 7:59 AM UTC
Fragmented lives entangled
but asunder in our journey
as our paths cosmically connect
in a romance of the arts
And who's to say what's real
to touch or deeply feel
what will truly last
or simply where to start
So I’ll
paint you alla prima
as I feel you playing me
in warm colors of merging ardor
a wet blending of artistry
my brush strokes of your body
painted in my mind
of impressions blushed in passion
in hues I can’t describe
Suspended in the moment
floating on a breeze
I revel in this picture painted music
almost in disbelief, unthinking…
knowing every nuance of our love
found only in our dreams
Like children in parallel play
I’ll finger the keys
and slip the locks
of all your orchestrations
filling the walls
of my concerts halls
with deep
splattered tones
in pinks and blues
the hues
that forever
bind us
And we’ll not look back
nor forward
but hang here in the moment
to display our
Painted Song
in the eyes
of giggly children
both doing
our own thing
together
on a string
curated
Aug 21, 2017
Aug 21, 2017 at 6:22 AM UTC
I will forever remember
Those beautiful deep brown eyes
That you thought were so plain.
But darling, you could not see:
how could you possibly see?
The way they shined in the sun
breathtaking hues of mahogany
Melting into golden rays
Circling an eclipse
your “plain brown eyes”
truly aren’t plain at all
they are a stunning mixture
of every color known to man
The most beautiful sunset on earth.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 12:16 PM UTC
*Down a peaceful, quiet lane
The two-story farmhouse awaits
Bathed in evening hues
Of rich lavenders, pinks,
And dusty apricot
The lilac scented breezes blow
Whispering stories of summer
Let me dance in pastures
Of buttercups and wild daisies
Where horses graze contentedly
And Virginia bluebells sway
Where time becomes stuck
And lets me live this golden moment
Just once more*
~Marian~
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 4:50 PM UTC
Paints of dark twilight hues,
Slathered across in blunt strokes.
Blend with deft hands,
Cajole gently with jabs and pokes.
Backdrop begging for a few others.
Longing to hold in infinite embrace.
Friends of earth and midnight sky.
Worthy of a doe-eyed lovers' gaze.
Cascading moonbeam...
Drenching all in silvery white.
Restless twinkling stars...
Singing their mismatched might.
Silhouetted landscape as horizon,
Darkened oils of plateaued ridges.
Finest brush could only manage,
To close the gap, I build bridges.
Nearing completion, this stint on canvas.
Nuances of dawn for what I've begun,
Usher the arrival of a brand new day.
All I need now is a few drops of sun.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC