The Limits of Infinite Green

Serene, you say

and touch upon

your spinning wheel

earthly orb round aglow

with yellows 

the arrow shows

blues and all its complimenting

hues of pure and azure

blending in

I do not know

as far as colors go,

what on earth you mean

when you say green...

olive

raw

new

wild

moldy

lush

envy

nausea

verdant

toads

vomit

cashola

chlorophyll

dragons
aliens

pesto

eco-friendly

army

grass

gems

under a green light

asking me to go,

rejected and moving on

a blur, recycled back into

the landscape accepting all

applications of green and

its basic redundancies, likeness

bordering on biopic multiplicity.

Composed 11/3/15.
Image by Vincent van Gogh, Green Field (1889), [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Patina's Purples

Remember-
Under the light of dusk,
when our eyes are quiet;
wordless, we watched
pink crests crowning purple clouds
passing by on the pale canvas sky...
Grey grabs all with its notes
taking the lead
.

“I want to see a new color,” she said-

I remember, “but there are none left.” 

Instead

Imagine a new blend, a color made from none of these

I pretend it cannot be seen, but better felt-
inside closed eyes

like blue

or a red
Aura

“A new hue,

another shade made of you.”

“I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror,” 
she confessed.

You ripen while you rest. 

And thus this innocent request

was bestowed.

A complimentary color, 
a gradual gradient 
evaporated and echoing
the tone of dawn

a radiant hinge on the fringe
of the rainbows wheel
angles ajar
prismatic and enigmatic.

Image By Anonymous [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Flammarion Woodcut, c. 1888.