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Joe Cole Jan 2015
Beauty is in the mind of a poet
Beauty in words so vividly crafted
To form the perfect picture
From that tiny ember left from last nights fire
Breathed upon and brought once more to  life
Like the phoenix from the ashes
Great works become alive
Yes, poets are artists
Words the color palletes
The pen wielded with such  consummate skill
The brush that paints the picture
A poem can draw us into  another world
Alice Through The Looking Glass
Narnia
Poetry takes us there
It allows us to sail wide oceans
Takes us above the rain forest canopy
Allows us to soar high with the eagles
Takes us to places that inspire

Poets and poetry
sandy gallagher Jul 2018
he will always be my heartbreak,
the muse that comes with every unsung melody
of a new lover.

he will always be the scar that permeates
through every touch
and piece of love that others give
now that he is gone and out of reach.

he will always be bittersweet,
and though i have moved onto better palletes,
i will always still have a taste for his words
that gave me the wings to write my own.
for the same boy i've been writing about since 2014
(i also wrote this within a couple of minutes w/o edits, please forgive me)
Aneesa Riaz Oct 2017
You were yellow,
like dandelions and daffodils catching whispers of the wind.
You were like the sun, a blazing luscious shade of bright gold.

I was blue,
like the light sky with white overtones.
Blue like the wrathful sea trapped in a single teardrop.
Tints varying from Cyan, Azure and Ceruleam.

Our colours began to bleed into each other like the gentle caress of a brush against a palletes. Forming a lush green.
I soon realised that you were moving away in an attempt to find other colours and combinations,
As green was just never for you.

We were two colours in a head first Collision,
oblivious to the fact that we had to blend to become perfect.

I was left barren and began to fade,
Transforming to a lifeless grey.
A mixture of black and white.
When light and dark combine but neither win.

In my monochromatic world,
There was suddenly a flash of red.
Scarlet and Vermilion danced before my eyes and lay smeared on my fingertips.
He was Crimson like the sweet fragrant rose,
burgundy like the blood in narrow veins.

He was a sight to behold with tinges of auburn.
He didn't mind my fading stains of yellow that you left behind like scars,
He just focused on healing my once shades of blue.

Together we mingled; Navy blues and Ruby reds,
I turned from dull to bright.
I was now sapphire and Prussian blue,
and we created a shade of vibrant purple.
He was still red,
and I remained blue.
But together we touched and turned into a beautiful lavender hue.
Inspired by hasley
The Fire Burns Sep 2016
While this usually means
What would Jesus do
I have a wiley scheme
To share another with you

Standing in the yard
Around the fire pit
Thinking we're goofs
Not getting chairs to sit

We are really cold both inside and out
I'm think this weather needs a manual
So I stand up and shout
WWJD. We want Jack Daniels.

Gentleman would be smooth
Single barrel would be better
But I'm to cold to move
Wife volunteers so I let her

She comes back with the Jack
And a stack of cups
Its okay that its old no 7 black
Friends arrive and I say what's up

We pour a round
To **** the chill we are mired
We begin to mound
More wood upon the fire

We empty the bottle with a little tear
This tradition is annual
Friend pulls out another one says have no fear
he shouts WWJD we want Jack Daniels

The whiskey, continuous pour
No one is leaving here tonight
Palletes on the floor
The sky is clear and bright

The party winds down
Our friendship is unequal
Nobody wears a frown
Forged by WWJD we want Jack Daniels
Adam Rabinowitz Sep 2019
There is a certain light
which sits just on the edge of a cloud
more nuanced by the hues of blue sky
then the paler palletes of the further horizon

And you have seen the yellow flame dance
on the log
whose sparks
rise and twirl into the deep
crepuscular and cerulean blue
of summer’s twilight

And you have seen the golden
grasses’ halo
glow and circle round meadows
where tiny spinners of dandelion
catch the last lights of dimming day
as they parachute
drifting like dust

And you have seen the mountain
at fall’s eve catch the
purple-red of summer sunset
even as the currents and crests
of the cold Sound catch the same
both tinged majestic by its color

Light rising and falling
you have seen
reflected moonlight on midnight streams
rain bent neons on late wet sidewalks
candles dancing on lover’s skin
showers of light through storm clouds
and willow branches
the incandescence of stars
the cheap fluorescence of dingy bars

Light reflected and collected
you have seen
blue flames ‘neath copper pots
the mirrored heat antonymous
to glacial turquoise
or the sharp laser of snow’s
crystal rainbow

Living light
you have seen
liquid ocean bioluminescence
reminiscent of aurora
greener than firefly’s child-chased
summer lanterns
cat-eye glow
shining snakes of lava flow

So when you close your eyes
and your sleep is lit
mystical as the borders
of medieval illuminated
manuscript
and the light is tranquil
as the movements
of turtles and manatees
through shadowed shallows
all the light you have seen
becomes all the light
you can dream
and all the light below and above
becomes all the light
with which you love.
He knits like a poet

Stuck in a few palletes

Yet his threads seem thicker

Than his breakfast's bread.

So he lifted his paper

And ripped it to shreds

As he sips his coffee

The paper did bled.
2023

— The End —