Birth of ColorBefore the darkness broke into day,
A somber sight was found.
The clouds were grey, everything grey,
No shadows anywhere around.
Colors were rarer than shooting stars,
A world of black and white.
Dark was all to see near and far,
Before morning triumphed over night.
It begins small, pinpoints of warmth,
The birth of the orb we call sun.
The green of the grass and the heat of the hearth,
And dew stains the stems of the lawn.
Night laughs at this trivial attempt for his domain,
By this force that we humans call light.
Though trees are like bars across my vision,
I can see the landscape made anew.
The lands awaken from slumber,
Reds and oranges and light sky blue.
Light and dark have since come to a truce,
With one rule that says it all.
The beautiful no-mans-land that brings us such joy;
Color doesn't touch the world before dawn.
Pink I blush
Big RedThe light glistening
from vermilion locks
gives me the chills,
and I try to remember
never fall for a red.
But I'm a sucker for scarlet
tendrils and rosy cheeks
with brown freckles lining
call me a fool but
I never listen to
And although lessons
are learned they
are often ignored
whenever a new one
Well I shifted my thoughts
hoping to evade
only to see
it all crumble
Well the blame is
no way to point the
when the whole world
tells me to turn
and I continue on
It's hard to ignore suc
stop ruining autumn.listen:
fall makes me think of leaving and of apple cider, though i never liked apple cider.
but i liked the idea of it.
two years ago i met a boy as fragile as dead leaves who called me his little spring girl. (i'd always liked autumn the best.) he kissed the two soft dimples on the small of my back and told me helikedme helovedme hewantedme.
and oh, by the way, "everything good must come to an end."
on our one year anniversary we picked out two pumpkins and i drew elephants on them for us to carve. he cut his out so aggressively that it lost its shape.
lopped off tusks and broken trunks became just a large, jagged hole.
he put a lit candle inside, and we watched it flicker, illuminating the raw edges.
"what is it supposed to be?" i asked him, taking his hand.
"my heart," he said definitively.
like an afterthought.
after that i was too afraid to carve my pumpkin at all.
the leaves changed, or maybe he changed, or maybe i was b
The Color YellowIt was the summer after my eighth grade year. I was happy to be out of middle school and excited to be starting high school. My parents had told me before I graduated that we could redecorate my room. I chose the color yellow for the scheme.
I don't remember why I chose yellow. It wasn't my favorite color, and it wasn't the prettiest color. But, ever since I read the book When Pigs Fly, I wanted to live in a yellow house because I would always be surrounded by sunshine, even when it rained. Since I couldn't repaint the house I live in, I chose to repaint my room yellow for that reason. My room has stayed yellow throughout my high school career. It is my sanctuary. And I live in a happily colored sanctuary. Even if things in my life seem to be in a down poor, I can go into my room and be surrounded by sunshine, even when it's raining.
GreenDrink to remember,
Forget drinking to forget.
If I were to cut out all the bad times,
Oh, there would be little left.
Just give me half a' bitter dear
And I'll chase it with regret.
They'll be almost calling time soon
And I haven't finished yet.
I'm drinking to remember
Please, someone hold that bell,
Before I take the long walk home,
Half a mile from hell,
Before the wife I'll never meet
Awakes, and starts to yell
Give me something stiff to steady me:
And I'll have a drink as well.
That green faerie brings me bad luck,
And a sleep, I have to tell
If in a second I am falling over
In another I have fell
I have stumbled past self-pity
Sought and swallowed all regret
I am drinking to remember
But it isn't working yet.
GreenSipping sweet green tea,
it wets my desert dry tongue.
The splash quenches thirst.
Blind BlueMy emotions emerge, exposed and translucent
they sputter about, springing up, sparks and showers,
and the stories in my eyes wait for you
to see them, read them, find me... believe them.
A deep blue teardrop falls into clear waters
My insides roll free before your open eyes
spread out like a sheet, a map of my mind
But you must be blind or you choose not to see
for you plod upon it all, you trod upon me
and twists, twirls, spreads
You are oblivious, perceive nothing
I'm overlooked and I fade,
like tiny crystal tendrils
I've been told before I am easy to read
and I've thrived by that each day,
But of course the one I want the most
cannot see me that way.
that slowly fade to
I've chosen to live in this cage and perhaps I'll never come out.
I've trapped myself with my very own flesh,
escape means my own pain, so I shout
Why won't you see?
become one body of pale liquid
I'm here, chained to you, and I've th
couldn't bluei draw a picture of
a man in a silver box sells
75 cent coffee and bad bagels.
his shirt is the kind of blue no one ever
tried to name a crayon after.
tried to love you
and the morning is that same color,
the color of canned lightning-bugs and
unfiltered cigarettes and desire,
because that is all you
draw with couldn't blue.
i pay him 1.25 in change and purse-lint
so that a fourth-world factory can make more
silver boxes to sell more things
more stale blueberry muffins.
and he will keep gathering change
in 75 cent purse-lint increments
in the small sinking townships of
all the couldn't blue mornings.
and he will keep gathering the
ugly colors of
another side of desire
and he will wear those colors
on a shirt
those colors no one
VioletOn twilit evenings
Butterflies of royalty
Whisper with tulips.