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Ozioma Ogbaji Apr 2015
Like the heavens and the skies
Like the deep seas so wide
When I am confident and true
When I have faith in you
Colour me blue, colour me blue

Like the royals of Great Britain
Like the noble in truth and ambition
In my wisdom, dignity and pride
In my mystery and grandeur so wise
Colour me purple, colour me purple

Like fire and blood
Like the intensity of a flood
In my strength and passion
In my desire, love and emotion
Colour me red, colour me red

Like the warmth of the tropics
Like the sun, my daily tonic
When I am determined and creative
When I am happy and attractive
Colour me orange, colour me orange

Like a smile so warm
Like joy even in a storm
When I am cheerful and happy
In my intellect, when I am savvy
Colour me yellow, colour me yellow

When I am all these and more
When I am despised or adored
With the colours of the rainbow
With the colours that make me glow
Colour me colours, colour me colours
September Roses Jul 2018
Oh sickly poisonous flame
Darting back and forth
I hear you call my name
It's not what they think, for what it's worth

One slip of the finger
And a tingling sensation
Smells of gas linger
Now for use of personification:

Its seems that you love me
For you never let me go
I feel pitiful in your embrace
And it seems that you know

You always take control
And oh how I'm fascinated by your flame
Skin swells and pain holds
In this endless torture game
Richard Barnes Jul 2018
I live in the light of a purple sun,
waters deep,
oceans black,
hurricanes  glow red with their own light.

Hell’s madness rules with no mercy in sight.  

Wretched souls rise with the tide  

then swallowed whole by the purple sun’s light    

The soul cry for peace but receive only carnage and hate.

What god approves this madness?  

Greatness born and dies in filth and mud. 

No honor to the dead and the living becomes a disease.
King Panda Mar 2016
it takes guts
to run red into
the sun
it takes guts
to mollify
me
I write you
poems
to watch myself
divide
I write you
poems
to watch my
purple go

run red into
the sun
run red
cowgirl
queenie
it takes guts
to march into
the sun
It takes guts
to mollify
me

I wonder what
you’re thinking
I wonder if you
want to watch
my purple go
I write you
poems to
watch myself
divide
I write you
poems
to run red
red cowgirl
queenie

I love you
more
I love you
red run
into the sun
I write you
poems to
watch myself
divide
I write you
poems to
watch my
purple go
v V v Feb 2011
I continue in darkness while
supposed light shines in the distance;

distant and unattainable
beyond a purple fog on its hands and knees
feeling its way through the night
like an angel of death.

Where is the light so many refer to?

I’ve died a thousand deaths but only seen
the purple fog nothingness creeping like
a rising river

tumbling over sand bags.

I have not seen light.
Published at Pyrokinection in January 2013
Suicide Girl Oct 2017
Red as the blood gushing from her wrist.
Purple from the bruises on her body as the beating
Green is her eyes yet she doesn't want to see
Yellow is her body from the **** her father impacted her
Red,purple,green,yellow
She wishes that she had a normal life
Red,purple,green,yellow
Her body aches for love, as when her father whispers "I love you babe" she cries
Red,purple,green,yellow
Her mother calls her fat and **** while she beats her
Red,purple,green,yellow
She slits her wrists while she cries
Red,purple,green,yellow
Shes now dead as she was hanging by a thread
~A.E.G.
Tbh something I made up in art randomly
shaun Aug 2018
layers upon layers on the wall and i've bared all.
peeling the wallpaper
fresh start, better days
moving forward?
but the purple underneath is more than a colour
an emotion, time, reminder
you once stood here, too
wondering who the **** plastered these walls
the cracks are taller than me
but a mere fraction of the size of the ache i feel in my chest

half of you remains in the room next to mine,
well-polished & cared for,
but the small wooden box fails to reflect your big heart
or the hole left in mine
but
i will continue to talk to you
until my mouth dries up
or i lose my speech
for you are home
very messy, just like my thoughts
Donall Dempsey Feb 2016
THE SMELL OF PURPLE

She says she can smell yellow.

She says she can smell blue.

despite, not being able to
spell either colour.

“Yellow smells the same as blue.”

“...like a wet kitty drying by the fire.”

“Red smells like
Mummy when she kisses.

Her kisses smell different
when she kisses you...

...then she smells like flames
with little orange tips!

Purple is my favourite smell...
...it smells just like a magic spell!”

I kiss her goodnight
like violet (only lighter)

with little flecks of purple
scattered here & there.
isabelle saloom Nov 2015
red* - her lips tasted of wine and blood and all the pain she felt in her heart. she was driven by wild passion and survived solely on her intensity and strength. each breath she took was like fire; so absolute, so empowered.
orange - her hair was crafted from the bright ashes of a phoenix, kindled with streaks of gold. she always seemed to be her own lick of flame from the embers that burned in her heart to the coals that touched her soul.
yellow - her smile was light at your darkest hour, sunshine after a rainstorm. inspired by everything and nothing at all. she was the sun personified, the epitome of radiance.
green - her eyes were so deep and magnificent and ethereal, whilst still lit with puerility. she could look at you and suddenly show you that she cared so passionately for you, no matter your mistakes or your faults.
blue - her skin drowned in an ocean of tears, storm after storm, each wave wracked her body. she trembled with heartrending sobs, each breath heavier than the last. her sorrow painted the depths of her, unseen to those who had not genuinely looked into her eyes.
purple - her organs were stained an **** shade by the darkness she consumed. her hunger was insatiable. she filled her mouth with glass and swallowed it with a smile on her face. the air traveled from her bruised lungs, through her macerated throat, and out her smiling, stained lips.
Please come and find me
Playful whispers in the dark.
Who am I calling?
I suppose...
My baby,
Can I call you baby?


Oh sweet lullabyes in the night,
Hold me tight in constriction.
Squeeze a little bit tighter, love.
I don't know how much time I have left.
Delusional!
Oh bitterly hopeless
Alone on the void
Scratching at air for any oxygen my depraved lungs can find,
Suffocating on your love,
Choking on your divinity.

Oh darling,
My sweet crimson lover
Dancing on the bridge of death at the break of dawn,
You swing me in your arms,
Torched tongue behind your tight toothed grin,
Your hair grows stars, and your arms bend time,
my fatal partner in a tango to the edge of the earth.

Darkness as you torture me
Wrench my soul willingly
Foolishly and ignorantly
Pulling my strings
Through obligation
And autopilot daydreams
Painting patterns
On an inky black sky

Orange slices on existential beach
Sparkling warm coast,
The cosmos like a bright sunny day above.
Bitter ashes mix and churn with the sand,
I'm sinking,
Quickly,
Help,
Help me!
But you just watch.
Mournfully?
Guiltily?
I sink until I hit the bottom
And there I lie,
Falling asleep to my tears.


The zodiac locked fate,
Fish and Virgins! Fish and Virgins!
Poets and failures,
Academics and frauds,
Spring and summer to autumn and sadness,
My eternal indigo diary,
My blueberry lipstick,
Leaving light stains on my love-lorn letters,
Lavender scattered in the envelope,
Mailed to you on Sunday,
Delivered along the milky way,
A sickly jazmine blend,
Of cherry blossom confusion.

Blood red,
Soaked through,
The same old colours fill my thoughts.
So many clouds for a sunny day.
Raining garnets,
Thick and playful,
Flooding the streets with sweet poison,
Bathing in my deep obsession,
Drowning in my addiction.

Waiting emptily,
In an empty white asylum,
With an empty mind,
Waiting for you,
My answer,
My meaning,
My red and blue jumper.
Not standing up to stretch,
But sitting still,
Letting my bones grow stiff,
To creak under my weight,
Like an old back porch,
Made for a pair of old lovers,
Desolate and dilapidated,
Withered by neglect,
Empty.

A pointless pray for solace,
In hope you will come,
My prince of milk,
My fifth science,
My escape from this never ending sporadic spiral down into the murky, dusty, purple fog of asinine and inane.
My peace of mind.
My baby.
Can I call you baby?
Sharon Talbot Sep 2017
Yes, I see the blossom illuminated
Between sunlight and shade;
I can even see the crenulated
Line they have made
Between late and high summer
And the evening’s waiting shade.

It is a Rose of Sharon, lavender and fair,
Hibiscus syriaca, a northern guest,
As if gracing some maiden’s hair.
Nearby Lilies dying of strange pests
Divert my vague attention to their neighbor
In the post-monsoonal air.

Down your blossoms weary with days of rain,
Drag low on the heavy boughs.
I have let them grow too high; they are vain!
Sending out showy blooms,
Into the sodden air, yet flimsy and thin,
Fit only for vases in rooms.
My prized Rose of Sharon had gone without care too long and after part died of winter ****, the rest hangs low, dejected after a rain storm.
Britney Lyn Jan 2018
Cannot sleep, all these memories are haunting me; purple and blue, a gift from you.
Will they stay? When will they fade?
To die like the happiness that seems to have left me, oh so heavy.
Take this heart, stomp out all the little pieces you created, all the pieces that you hated.
Hide my face away from the hidden, show me only to the blind.
Trust is not something that is easily given, especially from this heart of mine.
Lying on the ground, where you struck me down; battered, betrayed, I pray for the day.
Someone save me, for I am too shattered to do so myself, someone save me from this life that is my hell.
Help.
I wrote this piece 6 years ago today.
Onoma Oct 2018
there's this purple

gala at the end of time...

which never seems

to begin.

the moon goes thru

all her phases in the

blink of an eye.

which makes the floor

feel like it's ebbing and

flowing.

attendees break out into

soul-stirring croons about

shedding lifetimes of

loved ones.

water goes to wine, wine

goes to water...and desire

is a food continually served.

though one night my nerve

stuck to me, and rattled.

i began overturning and smashing

everything in sight.

everyone smiled...and the damage

was cleaned.
Bullet Oct 2018
Passing out love
Eyes closed
Seeing the world
In a view of Red

Waking up dead
Eyes opened
Seeing the world
In a view of Blues

The way these people
Belittle the energy
That can bring peace
They have mixed feelings
Seeing the world
In view of Purple

Stripped of caring and worrying
Exchanged for depression and disguises
Running from a red loved past
To obtaining blues of the present mind
The world viewing in purple
But my eyes can no longer
Hold a hue
Sally A Bayan Mar 15
In the garden, a soft-bodied plant thrives,
through sun, wind and rain, it survives,
among  asparagus ferns, it proudly lives,
contrasting its purple triangular leaves
against greens...its lightest of pink blossoms
waltz with the wind, in their fragile freedom,
almost white to blurry eyes
wavering...but, they never hide
raised high above the grass
like ladies proudly poised, with so much class...

a small white butterfly suddenly blends in,
deceivingly perched upon the pinks
but the sound of the camera's clicking
sends it immediately fleeing...
to and fro, the blossoms are swaying
reeling from the wind....wailing
over the sudden flight of their lover
waiting, for a new winged creature
on their purple bodies, to perch, to hover
alas,
....life is short...........never fair...
....and so are some...love affairs....
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sal­ly

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
March 15, 2019
Elise Jackson Sep 2017
crime, staring competitions, tears.

these small things that lead us further
into the fog, closer to the moths,
attached at the hip, nothing new.
nothing blue, always red.

your guitar rips through the
navy skyline, alerting the stars of war,
violet mornings creeping over the
trees as sleep envelops your eyes.
i've dreamed of something like
this, but i got more than i asked for.

i'd never go back.
i'd never go back to that place where you
don't exist, the dark, the damp, the treacherous.
becoming a threat, was the purple leaves and blinding snow.

but the next morning was lined with amnesia, we both forgave;

but we'll never forget.
Semicolon Jul 2018
And when I planted
Your best loved flowers on your grave,
I knew I missed you.
And every time I see a bouquet of tulips, I secretly hope it's from you to me.

© Semicolon
Bret Dec 2018
Loving boys and girls is hard.

When you are stuck choosing between
loving blue or pink more,
you cannot help but wonder
why purple is not an option.

Perhaps it is because
purple is the colour
that melds the two together;
the one that is neither composed more of
one
nor the other.

Perhaps it is because it is the one that strangles me,
grabs me by the throat and throws me against the wall
until my skin is laced
with its beautiful tone.
It beats me senseless
until I am no longer aware
of who I was before,
nor am I willing to remain in its grasp.

For this,
I will be pressured to choose either
pink
or
blue.

It is the colour that symbolizes
being ostracized for picking one over the other
whilst providing you with no other option.
However,
will you pick pink to fit in
or blue to gain yourself privilege?

When you come out to people
and they tell you that,
“You don’t look ***. Are you sure?”
“You are just curious. You’ll get over it.”
“Wait? So you are actually ***?”
The fear lies within the lack of answer
to any of their questions,
and the absence of a ****** expression
to ease their fears, wonders and concerns.
I will cover the purple that I once displayed with pride
to diminish the need
for any further questioning.

When you need to decide between
bringing a boy home
who is a different image of “perfect”
than what your parents envisioned
and therefore only rewards the two of you
to a dinner of questions, shifty eyes and ridicule
for simply trying to love
and
bringing a girl home
which warrants you
to sit on the floor like a dog at Christmas dinner
whilst begging for approval
only to result in you
trying to convince them that she is only your friend.

Loving pink is making phone calls
from miles away,
phone calls whose minutes get tracked
and questioned.

“Are you sure that you are nothing more than friends?”
They ask with such trepidation in their voices
that I cannot help but wonder
what would happen if I told them the truth.

Loving blue is never being trusted
to do the right thing with your own body,
to be questioned with every decision
whilst he is picked apart, chewed up and spit out.

“He’s not rich enough. How will he sustain the way that you live?”
The words obviously mean to be jokes
but I am not laughing.
I never will laugh.

“Well, you were straight a week ago. What happened?”
“I thought you had a girlfriend. Are you straight again? I knew that it was a phase.”
Loving pink and blue is hard
when you know that
you will always be torn apart
for trying to love.

Purple is struggle,
disbelief,
invalidity,
distrust
and marginalization.
Lucky for me,
it is my favourite colour.
Deborahlee Jan 13
in my stairway stumble
body and step collides

the bangs and bounces
meet the rug burn slides

as inner chaos flounces
my aches scream inside

rocking in silence

...with no one to hear
twice in as many months...
the last bruises just healed.
,
The uniVerse Jun 2018
Beauty lies bereft and bound
it cries for help but utters no sound
mascara kisses fade from your lips
etched by lovers worn fingertips
purple rings around sullen eyes
the broken skin it never lies
fists of thunder make not the man
nor the swift strike of back of hand
a thousand apologies can never repair
the displacement of a single hair
for she is not an object for you to own
she is a Queen that deserves a throne
and if she allows you to enter her chamber
it's also her decision if you should remain there.
her beauty is boundless
and cannot be tamed
all those who try
should be shamed

***** I have shared my poems on this website now since 2015 and this is my first daily, it has been a privilege and I appreciate all the lovely comments <3 *****

https://www.instagram.com/p/BpaxPgdFnQu/
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