LET US WRITE A POEM TOGETHER

1. 0

   \Brenda Scullyposted 15 years ago

   Dream on all through the day
   The lovers reel, dance and play
   An umbrella to catch the rain
   A sensation we feel again and again

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2. 60

   I*n*v*i*c*t*u*sposted 15 years ago

   Lovers sheltered under
   Umbrella, ella ella ella
   Enveloped in utter
   Pleasure, ella ella ella
   Vivid and embraced
   Measure, ella ella ella

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3. 0

   \Brenda Scullyposted 15 years ago

   Listening to Cold Play's yella
   Whilst being enveloped
   In Utter pleasure,
   hand in hand,
   soul mates, so grand
   Stepping out in any weather
   
   now for some steak me thinks

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4. 61

   dutchman1951posted 15 years ago

   the ink pours the page yellow,
   while I bleed black to blue, in
   vibrant yellows that hide under my ink
   enveloped in a soul mates dreram
   where hands engage
   and I,
   
   I cry
   
   I bleed
   
   I scream, I laugh
   
   I love-  you!
   
   I remember
   in the steep sleepy yellow where I dream
   remember, and bleed vibrant black to blue
   
   the weather I remember, the sent of it
   as a butterfly breaks my window pane
   a whist filled breeze, becomimg
   a touch of an eye-lash kiss
   where my umbrella re-folds itself, and
   this rain upon my face becomes- ella

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5. 0

   Ghost32posted 15 years ago

   Yellow the flowers I took to our rats
   They avoided the stuff like it smelled of the cats
   Poison perhaps like that old Jimson weed
   No need to feed and internally bleed

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6. 0

   \Brenda Scullyposted 15 years ago

   Yellow the colour of the sun
   Yellow the favourite colour of one
   Yellow a song, I sing when i am blue
   Yellow means a lot to me and to you

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7. 65

   Lisa HWposted 15 years ago

   But the sky's pinks and the mauves
   during late sunset
   may be Nature's most beautiful
   colors yet.
   
   The greens of the trees
   or the ocean's gray,
   or the orange at dawn
   with each night turning into day.
   
   The black night sky,
   and the white of snow -
   the colors of life,
   the hues we know.

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8. 61

   dutchman1951posted 15 years ago

   Soft warm days of Alabaster sun
   where yellow rays play on a beguine beach
   you approach one, now and then
   
   Bleached, etched bone
   anthracite cores of memory
   demons maybe,  mankind for sure
   
   Was she here?
   Pardon the Spontaneous me, my nature
   Like my sea of yellow, I come and go
   
   Upon a passing cut
   where crabs and other Invertebrates exist
   between tides, wrecked
   Not solaced
   
   where White, Vivid Yellow Chards, intermix
   into putrid greens behind me- The mountains
   it is late for me
   Yet I ponder here, vivid in yellow masque
   
   I am stilled to watch a Star Fish wither
   will the tide rescue it? 
   Me! No!  I remain shipwrecked
   floated here on a board
   
   where I sit,
   shoes in hand, upon this strand
   and watch turquoise billows roar
   With-in your shadows, of vibrant yellow

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9. 61

   dutchman1951posted 15 years ago

   Of Golden shard,
   Like Quintus Caecilius Matellus
   I ride above Rose Pedal cobblestones,
   their mustard yellow jade,
   following up the central hill to his grave.
   I take my pilgrimages in my own time.
   Some where’s here,
   the Star of David hides In architectural bliss,
   furthers from thoughts, so
   Dominant with-in the stones.
   Un-earthed, relentless in sandier yellow, yet
   My mind turns to purple royalty.
   On a simple poets page,
   I float into escapisms’ of ink and thoughts.
   Where assure seas,
   and tourmaline winds float my minds shackles.
   Freeing each thought from under loosed chain,
   the shadows dance about, breaking
   in cooling splinters.
   A Bright yellow fire interrupted,
   at each cobbled corner.
   Slug down along hillside walkways,
   not so care-less in placement,
   But intermittent in its intentions.
   It is here, I find myself founded by gods,
   Interrupted by Christianity,
   and saved by a nature sea.
   I sit at tables in Talaiotic Cafes,
   graced by Byzantines and Moors.
   Now more interested in Drink than war,
   we celebrate Neptune,
   and toast Aegean loves.
   While we talk of women and of lost conquest.
   The Poetry of sexual inferences, all
   that one finds sweet to the tongue and throat,
   In the Balearic Sun.
   
   
   sorry, could not resist, my poet side.
   I'll stop here, back to you Brenda

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10. 67

    Laurie Favelleposted 15 years ago

    Ah for the gift of the humble butterfly,
    The whisper of an evening breeze,
    The melody of birdsong with romance in mind
    And the peace of solitude to still the soul.
    
    The artist, again, takes up his brush
    And strokes the canvas back to life
    His maiden looks and softly smiles
    The yellow butterfly alights upon her hand.
    
    I awake, the dream in shattered shards of memory,
    And see the wasteland of a wasted world.
    
    Will the butterfly dance for thee?

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11. 0

    \Brenda Scullyposted 15 years ago

    The butterfly is dancing,
    sssssh silence lest she flies
    The colour of her wings you see
    She has won the prize....
    
    The artist a most handsome man...
    He captures her full score
    Then turns to the maiden waiting there
    And begins to paint some more................

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12. 0

    \Brenda Scullyposted 15 years ago

    the maiden she is beautiful,
    she sits and poses for him.....
    
    The sun is out,
    No one about
    
    The two enjoy
    communicating
    
    no words necessary,......
    
    
    close your eyes
    can you hear the soft
    gentle
    brush upon the blank canvas
    
    can you imagine
    the colours he is preparing
    
    He paints her long dark hair
    slowly, she smiles for him
    a picture is taking shape
    
    can u see it from where you are???

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13. 67

    Laurie Favelleposted 15 years ago

    I see the artist paint the tree
    And feel the brush strokes set me free
    
    The butterfly with yellow wings
    To the watcher softly sings
    The melody of silence golden
    A gift to any with wit beholden.
    
    And the maiden? sits with bended head
    While the artist strives with creative dread
    To create, like God, but on canvas bold
    A vision all his to have, all his to hold.

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14. 0

    \Brenda Scullyposted 15 years ago

    This vision of beauty,
    Sat against the tree,
    A mermaid temporarily out of the sea....
    In ectasy the artist yields his brush
    She swishes her tail...... which makes him blush
    He works on the picture, he is filled wiht desire
    The passion within him burning as fire.......
    The butterfly, flaps it's wings in glee
    Oh come hither dear angel...... come to me.....

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15. 0

    \Brenda Scullyposted 15 years ago

    but the angel in the butterful guise,
    flies away right up to the skies
    the mermaid swims away once more
    The artist alone with his canvas once more

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16. 60

    smokenchicposted 15 years ago

    only angels wing thus torn
    falls from the sky once more
    landing on soft earth, feathers galore
    baby lion, comes bath her tears away
    thus he looks she may live another day
    only who will tend to that torn wing
    when out comes king hover over singing
    her wing heals at the soft melody of love once more
    painted with rainbow  colors of all

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17. 60

    I*n*v*i*c*t*u*sposted 15 years ago

    spectrum full vibrant life
    ageless love souls collide
    precious warmth lovers lay
    beside each other charisma array
    fluid energy enveloped whole
    misty morning adorning souls

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    1. 0

       \Brenda Scullyposted 15 years agoin reply to this

       ships that are always passing by
       making the mermaid sit and cry
       she finds a song  to share with herlove
       soon to be published in the form of a hub.........

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       1. 59

          zadrobiposted 15 years agoin reply to this

          As an intimate confession in kind
          To seize and please the mind
          While her ratings spring anew
          And advertising revenue, oh how it grew!

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18. 60

    smokenchicposted 15 years ago

    souls at play through oracles eye
    singing, laughing, child's play
    flying through spectrum light
    darkness can not touch
    energy full throttle
    during lovers morning rush
    arrayed in precious jewels
    sapphire, gold, ruby
    wrapped around souls on fire
    colliding in flight
    dancing threw eternity

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19. 0

    \Brenda Scullyposted 15 years ago

    The butterfly is watching
       Her daughter takes a bow
       She looks up to her mother
       MUM  YOU TAUGHT ME HOW.
    
           one year dead this week mum R.I.P.

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20. 0

    \Brenda Scullyposted 15 years ago

    The artist has finished his picture...
    Stands back and lovingly gazes
    He adds  a little poem with it
    And rhymes each of the phrases

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21. 67

    Laurie Favelleposted 15 years ago

    We have had our fun
    The job is done
    Let this draw to a close.
    
    Its time to edit, cut & paste
    To shape and mold with love, not haste
    A perfect poem from rhyme and prose.
    
    My words are yours to quietly shuffle
    To join with others in peace, no hurry
    Take your time, take care, don't hustle
    The artist is you, get on with it, \Scully

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22. 0

    \Brenda Scullyposted 15 years ago

    o.k. sir will do hopeless and cutting and pasting but will have a go at it.,...

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