All that is gold does not glitter;
All that is green does not grow;
But all that is orange and all that is silver
Will not have an easy rhyme though.
Tag Archives: Color
A Most Violet Shanty (Not A Typo)
Legend says upon the sea
Beneath the skull and bones
A tiny man with whose skin is tan
With a beard of violet tones
Command a stalwart legion
Or pirates, hard as granite
Who seek to steal from those in teal,
Themselves in pomegranate.
There’s never been a pirate captain
So dreaded to be seen
As the hook’ed hand of the crooked man
Called Captain Aubergine…
Some once called him a dandy man
And some called him a fop,
And that soon lead to many a head
Who’s rollings’ are yet to stop.
And there he’ll stand with sword in hand
And beard the brightest plum
And calls the rat to ladies that
For booty he had come!
There’s never been a pirate captain
So dreaded to be seen
As the hook’ed hand of the crooked man
Called Captain Aubergine…
When on the seas, the frigates fled
When purple sails were seen
For not a sailor, cook, or whaler
Fights with Aubergine.
They knew beneath that gold fedora
A brutal brain belongs,
But none escape pillage and rape
Nor his K-Pop pirate songs!
There’s never been a pirate captain
So dreaded to be seen
As the hook’ed hand of the crooked man
Called Captain Aubergine…
And when the Violet Virgin docked
(As the captain’s ship was called)
The folks in port were naught but sport
For the pirates so ribald.
They stole the bread and beans and rice
And even the polenta,
For nothing stops the pirate fops
Bedecked in their magenta!
There’s never been a pirate captain
So dreaded to be seen
As the hook’ed hand of the crooked man
Called Captain Aubergine…
‘Til finally one fateful night
‘Neath a sunset, heliotrope
A treasure trove in vibrant mauve
With scalawags did elope
And Aubergine was satisfied
And sailed off, drinking wine
To somewhere worse, where grass is perse
And the sky’s amaranthine!
There’s never been a pirate captain
So dreaded to be seen
As the hook’ed hand of the crooked man
Called Captain Aubergine…
At least that’s how the tale’s told now
Of Captain Aubergine…
Of Birds and… Other Stuff
The sun was a brilliant scarlet
Upon the rustling brush,
Redder than a hemorrhoid
Who’s asking out its crush.
Within the brush are little jays,
Their feathers dark and blue
Much like the mood experienced
When one eats eyeball stew.
The birds were eating insects
So tiny and so green
Like little child soldiers
Or polytetrafluoroethylene.
The birds, thus having eaten
Flew off to sunset orange.
Alas, this leaves no conclusive rhyme
But judging by the imagery of previous examples, I doubt you’re disappointed.
Filed under Poems
The Other Primary Color
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
And yellow’s just like
“Wut dawg? U trippin’ bro?
“Violets are fuckin’ purple,
“And just ’cause I don’t rhyme easily
“Y’all just acting like dandelions and sunflowers and poppies and buttercups and, oh yeah yellow roses, don’t exist?
“Naw dawg, whatever. I’m out.”
Filed under Poems
Evening Meditation
As the light fades to yellow
And to bright orangey-red
I summon my thoughts
About life to my head.
As red turns to green
Like autumn reversed
I think of life’s moments,
The best and the worst.
As green turns to amber
The cycle repeats
And I cherish life’s beauty,
The adventures and treats.
Then the light’s green again
And in my pensive mood
I ask “what’s with the honking
“And why are drivers so rude?”
Filed under Poems
Flour Power
All-purpose is white.
Whole wheat is gray.
I misspelled “flower”
But kept writing anyway.
Filed under Poems
A New Rainbow Awakens
I’m feeling kinda down
Like a king without a crown.
I’m cowardly, as yellow as they come.
I’ve read like half a million books
By a bunch of chefs and cooks
But about sustainability I’m still dumb.
I thought maybe I’d fit in
If I changed my skin
But this spray-tan makes me look like that guy on the news.
You put it all together
In the rain or sunny weather…
I’ve got the well-read, not-green, yellow, orangey-white guy blues.
Filed under Poems
Pulitzer Bait
What in the sheltered blue of dawn
Was in the sunlight brown as fawn
Turned reddish bronze in ochre night
And yellow in the Summer’s flight.
The spectrum warranted by such
Invoked in hearts a feeling much
As was supposed in rumor and buzz
That no one knew just what it was.
Opaqueness faded into clear
As people gathered far and near
To gaze on the whatever thing
Until the spoken truth would ring.
Alas as stanzas came and went,
The verses writ and meter bent
It soon was clear that even I,
The poet, could not identify
Just what in sheltered blue of dawn
Would visably change as all looked on.
This ending fixed inside my head
I thought of a rhyme and went to bed.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 