aloft the sea
It is the color in her eyes. It is the color of the sea.
It's no coincidence that you can drown in both.
It is the winter's chill. It is the color of her bedsheets.
It is the cool breeze on your face. The breath you exhale after you kiss her.
It is the crunch of ice and the hush of snow. It is the sound of words whispered privately.
It is the peace and contentment you feel as you hold her in your arms.
It is the loneliness I feel and the tears I cry for you as you love somebody else.
But most importantly, it will always be the color of her eyes, the same color as the sea.
The sea in which I lost you.
Revealing Recollections
Staring at myself in the mirror
Reflecting on misplaced deeds
Metallic memories flood my mind
Razor-sharp edges glint with regret
Shining surfaces remind of past mistakes
Gleaming moments show the truth of me
Luminous thoughts come with them that
Clear the prints, the clouds, the blurs and
I see, the other side of the looking glass.
Beware
Blinding Rage. Temper Building. Anger Flaring. Blood Boiling. Heat Rising.
Let it go. Or. Embrace it.
Passion. Lust. Desire. Love.
Rose colored lips sipping wine from a clear crystal glass.
Pale cheeks blushing from secrets untold.
Blood flowing freely from an open wound.
You my dear reader, know this color all too well.
The same color that represents passion also represents love.
But
The same color that represents love also represents caution.
The color of dust settling
The calm before the storm
The color of nothing, of feeling nothing, of running out of tears
The color of days when you're alone and you're lonely, when there is nothing to hope for and nothing to say.
The color after you've been too melancholy for too long and you're tired. Tired of feeling like the pain won't go away
The color of numbness, the calm after the storm
When the rain has washed away the edge and you're still hurting but quieter
And just a bit more unbearably.
Lush
I love to run through lush dewey fields early in the morn as the rooster calls us to wake.
I walk barefoot in the soft clover, as I search for a four leaf one, I look up and spy an unripe Apple in the tree. It's best not to eat those just yet, better to wait until ripe and red.
Have you figured it out yet?
Xanthous
The tonal equivalent of goodwill,
Scattered haphazardly amongst the trees.
A blooming narcissus named daffodil,
Captured Wordsworth’s eye “dancing in the breeze.”*
Genus helianthus, or sunflower,
Alongside aromatic marigold.
Charming blossoms sunlight does empower,
Developing skyward blissfully bold.
The vintage kerchief, today’s bandana,
Adjusted around the neck so neatly.
A tasty, nutritious, ripe banana,
Exemplifies this color completely.
Vocal hue of the singing canary,
Promoting ambiance light and airy.
*(From Wordsworth, William. (1802). “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud”).
Here is the original limerick I wrote for this challenge; however, as usual, I failed to take notice of the 50-word minimum.
Hint: It's Not Purple
An integral part of daytime for us,
Lemons, canaries, a cab, and school bus.
A ripe banana,
A stylish bandana,
Omnipresent but not superfluous.
Nightscape
On clear nights, the stars lay against a velvet curtain. The sea ripples sleepily under the light of the moon. Everywhere and everything is surrounded by near silence and the cool air. A light goes on in a house, then goes off. Crickets chirp, and somewhere an owl hoots. Most people are asleep. But not me. I wouldn't want to miss my favorite time of day, the time covered by a calming and safe blanket of quietness, and the inspiration that comes with it.
Tranquility
It is not truly sadness
As some of the more morose pens might like to suggest,
But truly, a deep sense
Of profound serenity.
Perhaps it can be found,
When you wander through fields of morning glory.
A sea of intense tranquility,
Finally at peace.
Or better yet,
Among the far-flung stars and planets untouched-
And unknown
To our fledgling humanity.
But just maybe
It might find its way back to the spiral edge of some galaxy,
A tiny speck,
On the edge of reality.