If tomorrow our sky is no longer blue,
it will still be a crown for you.
A gift of love if the crown is pink,
a reward of passion if red.
A pile of happiness if orange,
a strong mind with yellow.
If green a bag of dollars,
if gold or silver, a bag of coins.
White for peace,
black for strength
Your crown would fill with an offering of colors overwhelming-
even for the riff raff royal
that is you.
I really don’t feel that this is the best poem I’ve ever written. But I do think it still has a certain charm about it. If you can, tell me what you think! 🙂
I wrote this poem sometime in 2022. It has a definite springtime feel, but I decided to post this now before summer is “officially” over. The real bees are probably beginning to settle in for the cooler months ahead. At any rate, enjoy this poem and the last bit of…
She writes with the pinkest of ink,that is also laced with white paint,filled with the highest layersof fairy talesand stuffed bears. She twirls in the pinkest of dresses,sewn in threads of optimistic love,lighted by the airiest orchid cloudsof white skies. She’s the pinkest of them all—adorned in lace and ruffles,sick…
Decayed, ashen, dirty handsclimbs their way up the scraggly hillside.Broken branches tears and slicesat its decrepit skin.But it does not care,for it does not feel.For it is the wraith,undead. Above it towers a wrathful sky,about to release its vitriol.And below it lies a beach,with dirt tan sandand dark, hard stones.And…
