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Kaliedoscope colors, shaped as a rectangle outline of my door-
and I can't go out and see the beauty of it. A gray room,
with a blue face, laced into rushing in another pumping day.
Provoke the guilt, wilted meaning every breathing being has.
I'll leave someday, in someway, maybe not this moon fall,
but I know I can't live, thoroughly at all-
All feedback is welcome.
Cné Jan 2017
Deep love within the heart
Ignite luscious flames aglow.
Spreads vast with just a spark,
Desires down below.

Keenly tantalizing,
Flawless colors and hue;
Unbridle free flying,
Loose reign while dreams come true.

Spreads rapidly, bright blaze,
Gold lighting of hope
Alive, aware, un hypnotize,
Curious Kaliedoscope.

A journey to enjoy
Burning fire devour
Life's burdensome's toy;
Amid a horse named Wildfire.
My artist's statement I wrote for an acrylic painting I painted of a horse.
nnyaa Apr 2014
black and blue...
or a million shades of grey..
life trapped in a kaliedoscope..
prisoner of a psychedelic realm.
Caustic pain covered with plastic smiles;
tears are the treasures of scintillating eyes;
song of the soul, smothered'
by musings of my mind.
(04/11/2013)
Mark Kelley Feb 2019
"Kaleidoscope"

Kaleidoscope of swirling leaves
Sunlight streaming in the wind
Aroma from the silent breeze
Brings it flooding back again

The far off laughter cutting through
Children running in the sun
Memories of things we'd do
In distant days of summer fun

As now I sit and watch the morn
Come sneaking past the last of night
I feel the need to rise once more
And hold those dreams, once lost from sight

And call the names from summer days
Where once we ran and jumped and fell
To drift off in a dreamy haze
And pray again where we once knelt

Yes,
Times and memories held dear
Though lost and gone and far away
Are clinging to my heart so clear
To live and breath another day

So,
Remember me from summer's past
Where once we ran from early dawn
Remember me in the summer dance
Of memories that have come and gone

Kaleidoscope of swirling leaves
Sunlight streaming in the wind
Aroma from the silent breeze
Tomorrow brings it back again
Tanisha Jackland Oct 2019
They say my black
is not pretty
as if my hair is
not the color of the
night that holds
the moon in
all her silvery glory
as if dark
doesn't heal
the wounds of an
oppressive Sun
as if my eyes
aren't deep enough
to capture
a kaliedoscope of colors
as if my skin
doesn't glow
luminescent
soft enough to
inspire you to sleep
to dream up another world
with my wings
an opulent black
like a mirror reflecting
the whole wide world.

— The End —