"rainbowed" poems
With leaves so rainbowed
And sky like ice
In the heart of fall the trees
Bear witness to true loss
With veining gold fronds
Of deepening red
Fluttering to dormant soil
Met by sleeping grasses
Whispering in the cool breeze
swish swish
Swaying to and fro
In the hard packed ground
As I trudge thru
The crumbling leaves
That disintegrate underfoot
Like drying sugar
Lay down and inhale
That warmth of fall
With colours flowing
Thru the currents on the wind
Brown and red
Orange and yellow
Fire licking the senses
And hearing the birds
Winding down for the winter
Fall
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
*She loves to lie, lie and lie.
It paints her different colors when she lies.
She lies in red, blue, yellow and all the other colors of the rainbow.
When she's angry she lies red.
When she's sad she lies blue
When she's happy she lies yellow.
but
when she's with me she lies white.*
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
The splendour of glory,
Stretched beauty
Across the universe
That none could reverse.
Naturally occuring lights that leave any human mind in awe,
They're called auroras;that's not all..
Big is beautiful!when you take a look at these huge sights of divinity,
So gigantic they look like they've existed for infinity,
Located in Asia is the mount Everest,
King of the forest.
And in America;the Grand Canyon,
So grand I'd spell it in lights of neon.
The great barrier reef found in the Coral sea of Australias north eastern coast is so beautiful,
Naturally created by living organisms,its so beyond cool
More like the view of the Rio De Janeiro Harbour,
Another great sight to remember.
Talk of the beautiful,ever flowing and rainbowed Victoria falls,
How to fully describe it,only God knows,
Its location has brought its proud owners Zambia and Zimbabwe to unification,
Indeed its a great destination.
Sometimes flamey and always beautiful is the Paricutin a cinder cone volcano,
Located in Mexico.
As beautiful as they all are,
You're a better star
In the eyes of our creator.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
The smell of swiss fondue
a chocolate fountain
moist strawberries
angel food cake.
The smell of brunch buffet
apple turnovers
honey sliced ham
bacon and eggs.
The smell of exhaust
as we walk
to the chapel
up Oliver Street.
The smell of flowers
rainbowed daises
heart shaped lilies
a single red rose
on the broach
of your six year old
brother.
The smell of family
friends neighbors.
The smell
of your six year old
sister
beautiful Easter dress
sky blue ribbons
silk bonnet
blonde hair
smooth skin embalmed
because leukemia
doesn't smell.
Today
we will all
believe in God
or pretend
at least
for you, her sister,
her mother,
her father,
her twin brother,
and for Ruthie,
her chest buried
in tear soaked flowers
in a four foot casket.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:23 PM UTC
Who shall declare the joy of the running!
Who shall tell of the pleasures of flight!
Springing and spurning the tufts of wild heather,
Sweeping, wide-winged, through the blue dome of light.
Everything mortal has moments immortal,
Swift and God-gifted, immeasurably bright.
So with the stretch of the white road before me,
Shining snowcrystals rainbowed by the sun,
Fields that are white, stained with long, cool, blue shadows,
Strong with the strength of my horse as we run.
Joy in the touch of the wind and the sunlight!
Joy! With the vigorous earth I am one.
2.5k
You can only spend so many hours in labs, study groups and classrooms - under relentless, fluorescent lighting - before you start feeling life withdrawal.
When I hit that stresshold, I need to rebalance myself.
I could go to the New Haven harbor - I find the ocean endlessly relaxing - or for a quick fix, I can always rely on the warmth of multicolored product packaging.
For the last one, a grocery store will do. I’ll walk the bright, prismatic cereal aisle, and run my finger gently along the gratuitous, rainbowed variety of selections.
It’s a soothing gesture that I repeat several times. A reminder that there are still beautiful, shiny things out there, on demand, in the uncomplicated, non-academic world.
Feb 26, 2024
Feb 26, 2024 at 11:22 AM UTC
in front of the mirror, she stands and sees them on the wall, tipping along the dust
she presses coffee and rinses dishes under hot, soapy water, her eyes on that wall
then out the window
the sun winks high and the glass talks in telltale signals left by sunken reveries
she falls into slumber so deep and intuitive webbing takes over all ahead
the old Singer in the corner sits silent and awaits its timely command
then, she wakes to find all the silent trappings of caterpillar's welcome
and deep in the forest of her serene thoughts, she taps into worlds half lost to Man
too little to expect in the moonlit attic of North verdant wedged into half a heart
she lowered all the burnt offerings into the soil and gave up one prayer after the other
pulling loose the pieces into the loom, turn the wheel and spin a cloak out of suffering
all night and all the next day, the spinning proves to be substantial
and it grows
*the cloak is done, it's so beautiful
and on the wall, there it shows the promise of tomorrow
she eyes that missive dumped in the wastepaper basket*
so many squares overlap in the rainbowed light; the shadows play rapier games on the wall
and the night lands refreshing on spicey green and greets the walker
hurtling somnabulist takes a dip into cast reflection of unexpected calls
and on the wings of nocturnal takings, she travels yet further
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 8:56 AM UTC
She came covered in satin-silk hair,
Displayed by rainbowed Ray's;
A visage of God's awe,
And wing's that flew uncaged.
I kneweth her once afore,
In the natural form of grace;
The welkin's own, a soul I've
Known, regalia clase.
O' athwart twas I,
That seized her
Breath, the
Roaring sky's o'er
Happiness. She tucked
Her head, into mine chest;
As the rest played out
As a utopian scene.
Twas not a dream,
Or drug induced
Illusion, some get
Amour confused
With the devil's
Confusion, though we
Art an infusion;
Two antediluvian
Specter shades,
Her color is yellow
For the sun, mine is blue;
From the deepest of water's,
And the river of life
Out of God's throne
I pulled Jane through.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( àgapi mou) dedication
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 10:07 PM UTC
full of silence
emptied of song
terrible in beauty
and glorious
in her step, traversing
every rainbowed bridge
and leaping, leaping,
glorious in her dance
Jul 1, 2021
Jul 1, 2021 at 2:25 PM UTC
Shall we pluck intensity from the air
and perhaps coil it soundly and
extravagantly into a petal-soft bed
of rarely seen dreaming,
where sheets of silk make textured
messages into sequinned bliss
with rainbowed moonbeams ?
Shall we take flight, you and I ?
Untried dimensions wait to take us far,
to make morning metaphors,
and catch sight of bliss
made for our breakfasting bed.
Let us capture euphoria
to feel more elation, and when
glorious sun enters,
rapturous untamed passion
shall paint light on the face
of our embrace leading to ecstasy.
Shall we make haste then to taste eternity ?
Oct 26, 2010
Oct 26, 2010 at 9:51 AM UTC
She likes to laugh in summer
She likes to dance in Spring
In Winter warm's the butter
In Autumn dancers sing
In June flowers don her hair
In April grow she will
Adance the chance to see the sun
December - member, green is still.
And yellow shouts the solar flowers
While melody passes the birds on pink wing
Across the bright of rainbowed showers
An Autumn-Winter-Summer-Spring
Cosy posie purple heart
Pine cones grow and roots wriggle down
Soldiers, lovers, sippers sing
The aurora more a festive crown
And 'lo, my sib'; take light in eye
Though grey and opaque cleanse the lens
What may share may never die
What may grow stays here forever.
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 5:05 AM UTC
The minute shift it brought about
helped along by three pints and sneaky tequilas,
was enough
to generate
a fanfare.
For too long I have stooped,
trapped in the exoskeleton of an older world,
unable to move and unable to breathe,
for fear I will shatter the outer plates that hold me together.
But a little while ago,
I felt a crack rend the outliers, and a burst of colour I'd never seen before,
rainbowed happily through the split
So here I am,
cracking plates with rainbows,
with the Old World and an Exoskeleton I outgrew,
gathering new dust on the floor beside me.
And atop a hill moulded from wishful thinking and despair,
stronger arms build armour from a grin,
gnashing teeth and belly laughs.
So try me now,
because I am ready.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 8:48 AM UTC
Ten buttercup summers ago
sweet gilt strands spiraled above
dual attraction,
moments fanned friendship
into smoke of commitment and
passion strewed
petals on beginnings of romance.
Five lilac seasons back we
picked scented happiness when,
defences fallen,
meadows of floral nectar ended
aloneness and love
waltzed thru' former convention
without any note
of doubtful retreat or regret.
Two hollyhock years gone
seeds hidden in needy hearts
took root and bloomed
as we tended the scent of total
oneness until,
coffined in fathomless shock,
happenings flattened
hope's dreams of contentment.
A grief ago winter's cold
wilted growth, buried treasure
and brought an end
to love's beautiful garden, yet
rainbowed in memory
those flowers still hold colours
of our very specialness.
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 5:17 AM UTC
Candle on the river Lethe
lead on to the untamed plains
where man will be refracted
in the spectrum of
infinity
forgotten in the rainbowed
folds of alternatively
real light
the bow
its name life
its work death
works unsung
if we unforget
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
Stream streams, runs, speaks
in water to me, blind over
tongued rocks. Don’t wake up,
her sweet heat dropping over
my face. I don’t. I want her to
continue smiling with her eyes
like she is, hands through me.
I’m the grass in her fields and
she’s alone in them. I let her be.
An impossible color gleams in
shut eyes—maybe
veiled incarnadine, stirred in
splotched mauve, clearing dull
blue-black, streaming vibrant
because water is streaming
through air into myself, because
the high red sun is falling down.
A thin membrane’s between it all.
If I find the far distance inside
that short space, the chained
filaments appear, then glow,
shift, float, stream. I think of
seeing stringed symbols of
broken infinity, but I don’t
focus on that, I let be.
Kaleidoscopically gemmed
rainbowed streaks begin to light
the world, slowly, move my eyes.
As I move, they move, and
pour in the hot white of
awakening, o her smiling eyes.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 6:38 PM UTC
Rainbowed mirrors mask checkered lives
Implant the satin, if you will
But beware of the baker's staple,
For a thousand tablets could not portend
the Infatuous Sog
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 9:01 PM UTC
Rainbowed mirrors mask checkered lives
Implant the satin, if you will
But beware of the baker's staple,
For a thousand tablets could not portend
the Infatuous Sog
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 9:01 PM UTC
Thinking back on that day
so long ago, I always have to ask myself
if my recollection is true.
Did the sunlight and the spray from the falls
really create a rainbowed halo above you?
And did the trout all rise to the surface
at one time just to feed on your beauty?
On even the coldest days the memory
still never fails to warm my heart.
Funny how tomorrow I might smile
thinking of that day so long ago,
and the next shed tears abundant as the falls
that in concert with the sun
sang you forever into my heart.
r ~ 4/4/14
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 4:26 PM UTC
I've been eating zebra cakes. Partly for the taste [creamed-up skies, maybe a swan or two reflected in a lake] but also for the animal on the package with his confetti and rainbowed smiles. Four days till Good Friday, lord.
In eveningtime, I sit inside myself and bang on the cockleshell walls with my ribs. Given time, the vibrations start to numb-up the cells of my nerves and lose effect -anyways. Sleep is with a machine who touches me through perfectly oiled axles and aching laughters. He doesn't hear me when i tell him I don't want his incisions and leaves knives by my bed to desensitize any qualms.
Last weekend, I didn't go home with the pineapple boys. I climbed through arms and fingers and faces, but my lover (machine) had since ascended - I kept asking which of the walls i could follow to find him, but They laughed and told me i was blind.
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 5:27 PM UTC
A hundred million colours fell before my eyes
Yet all around felt empty
This look of feigned surprise
Inside I'd lost the feeling
A numbness in my head
No floating magic lantern
Just utter utter dread
My witness to such horrors
Had simplified my mood
I could have been that person
I could have been that doomed
Instead I hit the road ahead
Don't think of all the seen
Another day of rolling
I pick the colour green
A colour of the countryside
New things to see and do
The dawning of new life ahead
See shoots
I see them too
One hundred million colours
Yet the all I want
Is you
The colour of a rainbowed sky
Come look
At what you do
Come colour what I'd lost inside
Come take away my pain
Come wake me kisses ,
In my heart
I love the colour ..
You
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 1:19 AM UTC
I’m perpetually fighting
the constant pressure
to capture
the present moment
(How much is mine to keep?)
When all I want is to exist within it,
and let it pass,
as quickly as I realized it was there,
and as briefly as it remained
I can only bathe in it
in the metaphorical sense,
letting these little droplets of time
soak into my skin
with a soft, rose petal fragrance,
the scent of renewal
masking an ever-present fear
that fills these soap bubbles, each neat little "pop"
destroying my rainbowed reflection
stretched across their filmy surfaces
I realize I am only partially attached
to the drain plug of the bathtub...
But that thought escapes me as well,
moving with the water now swirling down the pipes,
***** from my skin and tears
and lost hairs and forgotten dreams,
carrying every particle of my former self
to some unknown grave
So I leave my bones, carelessly, in this empty ceramic shell
and imagine the day that I was born
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
Oh sweet, beloved Mercury
Where lucid liquid logic's rise
Who's silver molten vapoured sphere
Doth surge and crackle
fractaled lights.
Her breath ignites, excites, entice
The fevered frantic frightful men
With clustered cluttered clouded thoughts
Where rabitts, worms and loop-holes blend.
An etheral itch commands her call
Crawling 'cross the rainbowed wires
Wordly winding waves of mind
Embed upon her violet spiral.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
Excumberments breathe taking wave,
Emissary's personnel page ,
Canst thou plot better tricks?
Compiling all floorboard sticks to confer with a higher cease!!!!!
Forehand fisheries for the ancient diseased!!!!!!
Serene vision giveth me unquarreling,
Rogue thought all wallowing to newfangled prints to pictury!!!!
Gothic lampways direct thy youngest of strangers,
Where end times meet danger in robes of rainbowed out dark!!
No more roselletes, no more park to troop through on prepurposed land!!!
Fraternity playhouses thou proceeds to be taught in!!
Bought in and lured,
Wherein men turneth to girls ,
In a winking eyes play!!!!
What a day we have all come to,
Isn't it?
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
we belong to the starving places, the broken places,
the screaming, shattered, hallucinated alleys
of blood and smoke and demons of shuddering righteousness.
floating lovers running high and poison-drunk
into doorways and neonic windows crying out
for absinthe and holy, holy benzedrine
in glazed teacups of library cafés.
demonic siren-songs,
shrieking car alarms in afternoon machineries,
when all the righteous are sleeping
and the chosen come out to scream
in front of shutters closed down to the ******
vibrations from the drilling drilling drilling
into the pavements of greying rain-tears and rainbowed gasoline
spilled carelessly from engines
releasing rotten and evil from the deepness of the earth.
those righteous-shutters blow half open
in the madness of waxing moon-winds.
beautiful, beautiful darkness,
beautiful, beautiful damnation,
golden deception,
golden lucifer,
golden hell,
golden lights straying off pathways of dark-deep forests,
golden souls in eager rivers of underworlds,
golden addiction,
golden smiles of torture,
golden wheels of death and birth
and dying, dying, dying for the darkness,
dying with blood running purple
into the indigo road- drains of night,
reflecting golden constellations and golden lamp-posts
and the golden windows of empire state and the l-train.
scream, scream, scream into your indigo death.
fearful, ground-sleeping, six feet forgotten,
fires below, regret above, redemption and tears from the righteous
with their closed windows far above the bodies now.
those starving places belong to us.
the dumpster-fainted concussions,
the vomited acids of last night’s drunken affairs in amber side-streets,
the hollow-eyed babies born out of terror and war
and atomic demises of love and perforated money,
those flawlessly created youths with their drugged immortality
shining broken-skinned from out of their eyes and mouths
those nothing-brained men of poetry and heavenly visions,
those meilleurs esprits,
those wanton dreamers of scotch and rosé
and pure ethanol gulped from glassware,
burning throats and minds and talent
and running genius into drains
with the purple blood of the dying.
the starving places belong to the starving,
and the starving belong to their indigo deaths.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 5:57 PM UTC