Gifted

Westward bound, homeward
into vibrant palette of the setting sun.
Raindrop rivulets smear tinted glass
as rainbow arches in the east.
The sky colours my senses;
lifts me higher.

As dark descends, stars shoot
as the cosmos gifts earthkind
with spectacular Perseid fireworks.
Tonight, we are truly blessed.

Picture credit: Graeme Sandford

Reds and Blues

You take the reds
and I’ll have the blues
I wish you’d never said
your preference for hues
My heart bleeds yellow
as my eyes burn green
You keep real mellow
while I silently scream
A rainbow of words
come arcing your way
I watch as the herds
have plenty to say
I wish I could write you
such colourful rhymes
But I have encountered
some poetry crimes
Purple, orange, indigo, violet
What’s that all about then?
Stick with the reds
and I’ll keep the blues

Seven

rainbow-flower

I await a word…
or two – or, better –
three.
Three is the magic number.
Four is too much to ask;
wherefore, I would respond,
as one would, with one.
Which one? Too telling.
Day to day, my one is two;
the dark, the light,
the me to you,
the me for you.
One, two, three, four,
five alive are we.
To be, or not to be, six, in two.
Can you see the rainbow?
Can you hear the music?
Can you feel the energy?
The pot of gold; the sands of time –
in harmony.

If Only

If only you’d take my hand and lead me through a rainbow hue. Instead, I take the blue pill down a path unknown; lonely, but never alone. If only.

If only I’d used my head and taken the red pill. You’d be laying with me in our feather bed, warm and soft; holding my love aloft. If only.

If only my eyes didn’t glow green and you hadn’t seen how keen I’d been to press self-destruct every time you looked. If only.

If only my heart wasn’ t a bitter shade of lemon yellow; that I’d been far more mellow and willing to accept you. I’d have kept you. If only.

If only something would rhyme with orange… or purple.