Tag Archives: Color

Rainbow Town

Big green steamboat

With two red wheels

Casting great white wakes

In the chocolate Mississippi water.

In the distance, a brick-red city

With lights in tans and teals

And the iron evening air

Is growing blacker, hotter.

The brassy blast of cymbals

And a wailing silver sax

Play the blues for our reunion

And the clouds are stalwart brown.

I’m sitting in a steel chair

With rust like sealing wax

As a snowy egret flies into

The night in rainbow town.

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Hue’d Never Guess…

Apparently, the color “peacoat”

Is sort of grayish-blackular

I would have thought it greenish

Given “pea” is in its vernacular,

Or perhaps a pale yellow

Would fit Peacoat’s pigmentation?

Alas, the color picker people

Lack an eight-year-old’s imagination!

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Ode To A Color That Sounds Like A Grandma’s Name

Mauve is a version of pink

That prettier than you might think.

It sounds like beigey-blue

But that’s just not true.

It was named for the mallow flower

And possesses an old-fashioned power

To make people yawn and complain.

It’s like a happy cocktail stain.

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October

Giant peaks of scarlet leaves

Mixed with auburn, amber, gold

Summoning the child within

To leap in, safe from autumns’s cold.

Into the fallen leaves in hues

Of flame and fortune children fly

And gentle wind, October’s whisper,

Seays so gently from the sky.

Hours after laughter leaves

The leaves themselves, scattered, wild,

Echo of the past adventures

Of literal and inner child.

Pumpkin pie and jokes await

‘Til snow fulfills poor Autumn’s fate.

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Colorful Language

Purple golden orange

Shines green in an azure pool.

What’s in these brownies?

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“Write A Poem With Silver And Orange… You Can’t”

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.

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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…

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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.

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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.”

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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?”

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