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Hannah Beasley Jan 2018
Dear rainbows,
Thank you.
Thank you for showing that out of every storm comes
something so inexplicably beautiful that we often stop all that we are doing to admire you.
Thank you for being a bright light at the end of every struggle.
The day that you don’t shine after a terrible storm is the day that I give up.
Thank you For your every hue.
Larger than life, your bright colors streaming across the sky,
Thank you for being a beacon to all of our allies.
I reach for you and your beauty.
Thank you for being the symbol of an identity I hold so dear
For your colored stripes are ever so often my only hope.
Thank you for giving me strength when I need it most
You tell us, not to give up when life is unfair, to not succumb to our despair
Thank you for being this, Mirage of heaven
The prettiest woman, a reborn Marilyn Monroe
Thank You For I can feel your hands guiding me
Down every bumpy road
Thank you for standing tall
Like paint trickling down from the sky
Thank you for being the bay and meadow
While the clouds fly high above your head
Thank you, for defining all my colors
All the colors of my rainbow eyes
Thank you for your rare kind of beauty
For, heckling the rain
Thank you, for brightening the sky
The vibrant shades of the world
Thank you for cheering me up
Even on the darkest of days
Thank you, because after the world glistens with rain
It's fun to explore what lies beyond your end
b Nov 2017
All things considered
I'm not too big a fan
Of the state I'm in.
Considering I always skip over
The denial part.
I've been at bat for too long
To not know when to take a pitch
Outside
And when to take one in the ribs.
Francie Lynch Jan 2017
O indiginous tuber to Peru,
Now in nations' daily stews,
From the Polar South to Timbuktu,
Ranked with rice, wheat and maize,
Oh staple potatoe
You grace our table.

We plant seed spuds,
Red, yellow or brown,
Harvest the new ones,
The remainder mound
To thrive in leisure,
As buried treasure.

Heel the spud *****,
Unearth your trove,
A gatherer's surprise
To woo true love.

We slice, dice and mash,
Roast, deep-fry and bake.
It's not an egg,
It'll never break.

     Medium-rare, please.
     And make mine a baked.
     Oh, and don't forget the butter,
     Oh, and sour-cream, just in case.”


It hasn't got *** appeal,
What you see is true,
But make no mistake,
I swear by what's holy in taste,
It only has eyes for you.

Pharmaceutically,
It soothes,
Burns, itches, puffy eyes,
Migraines and headaches.

Make a stamp,
Make silver shine,
Clean your windows with its brine.
And potatoe muffins are simply divine.

When blight strikes,
When crops don't thrive,
Many starve,
Many have died.

So, I raise this toast
To the lofty Tuber,
And I dedicate this Ode,
To the one,
The only:
*Mr. Potatoe,
This bud's for you.
If an urn, why not a potatoe.
A little known potatoe trait, labourers scheduled tater breaks.
I take antimony from your black eyes to write love odes
It makes me to appreciate beauty with all its beauty codes
My life is nothing , it is what helps me to write episodes
Love is in alluring mood to portray its wonderful modes

My love let me take you in eyes to sleep under eyebrows
Your enchanting beauty touches my heart in love rows
Let us sail to eternity with open mast and with all prows
My heart is always busy with you and it never ever avows

Let us be on the road of progress just to be hand in hand
Let me collect all colors of flowers to make sweet garland
My love has its own trend while your beauty its own brand
The moment your beauty has touched me I am not on land

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Chara-Ruth Ward Sep 2016
What is it that makes you stand out from the others,
What makes you come before your brothers.
Yellow, green and Blue,
Seem like nothing compared to you.
You tell me when to stop and where to exit.
I use you to highlight things so I don’t forget them.
My school colors are your crimson.
Your color makes my backpack glisten.
How would I live if you were taken away!
No more Red Delicious apples or Red paint!
The world would be bland if you went missing.
So for you to never leave is what I’m wishing.
By Chara Ward ©
Scarlet McCall Sep 2016
Like water, like flowing rivulets,
notes fly from fingers fast on frets.
Slippery sinuous shimmering tones
(complemented by brash bluesy Bones).
Like storm’s thunder and lightning a chord
brings the sky to us on earth—
or is it that we fly , then die until the rebirth
in gentle reverb of a note two octaves higher?
Strange how rain coexists with fire.
Drench us in the cascade born from your desire.
Jeff Beck has a new album out with the British band "Bones."
Claire Collins May 2014
you stolen pink, arson rose
you angry yellow
you know you the new black?
you inmate slap
color of construction
oh range
convict cage or bruised sunset
you peel or rind
oh range
oh range
(oh aren't you glad I didn't say orange?)
you uniform agent
you coral fire burnt
aren't you glad i didn't say orange?

— The End —