“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label hue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hue. Show all posts
Thursday, August 29, 2019
Periwinkle...
...was precisely the most fitting tone
of dawn before the tint of all things
illuminated themselves outward
humming their hues
in synchronic earth tones,
in the distance,
there were glimmerings,
starlight still hanging
on, winking it self away
until the last wishes
were taken in
pastel.
Painting by Thomas Wilmer Dewing (1851-1938), 'Untitled', in Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.
Saturday, September 19, 2015
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
inside closed eyes
like blue
or a red
Aura
Aura
“A new hue,
another shade made of you.”
“I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror,”
she confessed.
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 gradual gradient
evaporated and echoing
the tone of dawn
a radiant hinge on the fringe
of the rainbows wheel
angles ajar
prismatic and enigmatic.
of the rainbows wheel
angles ajar
prismatic and enigmatic.
Image By Anonymous [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Flammarion Woodcut, c. 1888.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
And then...
Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign, at first...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...