Our Beautiful Home
If all the world looked black and white,
And a pale grey moon came out at night.
You wouldn’t know if summer had come,
And winter, only when your fingers grew numb.
With a colourless sun rising in an ashen sky,
You would be pallid and so would I.
What a boring life we would then conduct,
Better that the planet should self destruct.
For colour is such a joy to behold,
But earth would be so dull and cold.
We take for granted our beautiful home,
We’d never be happy with monochrome.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Related quotes
Black And White World
I was looking at the black and white world
it seemed so exciting
if you'd only put me back to back with that girl
when the night's inviting
with just a little lighting
there'll never be days like that again
when I was just a boy and men were men
you'd never go from moment to moment
you're the living double of a single fiction
you're the very colour poets compliment
cause you feel the fingers friction
it's a freeze frame, still it's real life
you don't want to look
cause you've seen the film and read the book
I was looking at the black and white world
trying to name some pin-up
in those days she was just a beautiful girl
now she's framed and hung up
I thought she was younger until
I saw her last night in close detail
though they all fade away when you're so pale
it's more than just a physical attraction
starts with a face and ends up a fixation
but you're never going to feel a fraction
the way it used to work on your imagination
when you were looking at a black and white world
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn
Autumn is a beautiful season
Summer ending Winter ahead
a slight chill in the air
beautiful leaves of Gold and Red.
Animals busy gathering food
some ready to hibernate
Squirrels rushing about
others looking for a mate.
Home made bread and soups
collecting wood for Bonfire Night
kids knocking doors for trick or treat
dressed to scare dressed to fright.
Going for walks in the Woods
Blackberries picked nice and sweet
going back to a nice hot meal
time to rest the tired feet.
Autumn is a beautiful season
it isn't dull or boring and Grey
the night may come in a bit early
so make the best of the day!
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Winter Lakes
Out in a world of death far to the northward lying,
Under the sun and the moon, under the dusk and the day;
Under the glimmer of stars and the purple of sunsets dying,
Wan and waste and white, stretch the great lakes away.
Never a bud of spring, never a laugh of summer,
Never a dream of love, never a song of bird;
But only the silence and white, the shores that grow chiller and dumber,
Wherever the ice winds sob, and the griefs of winter are heard.
Crags that are black and wet out of the grey lake looming,
Under the sunset's flush and the pallid, faint glimmer of dawn;
Shadowy, ghost-like shores, where midnight surfs are booming
Thunders of wintry woe over the spaces wan.
Lands that loom like spectres, whited regions of winter,
Wastes of desolate woods, deserts of water and shore;
A world of winter and death, within these regions who enter,
Lost to summer and life, go to return no more.
Moons that glimmer above, waters that lie white under,
Miles and miles of lake far out under the night;
Foaming crests of waves, surfs that shoreward thunder,
Shadowy shapes that flee, haunting the spaces white.
Lonely hidden bays, moon-lit, ice-rimmed, winding,
Fringed by forests and crags, haunted by shadowy shores;
Hushed from the outward strife, where the mighty surf is grinding
Death and hate on the rocks, as sandward and landward it roars.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Christmas Of 1888
Low in the east, against a white, cold dawn,
The black-lined silhouette of the woods was drawn,
And on a wintry waste
Of frosted streams and hillsides bare and brown,
Through thin cloud-films, a pallid ghost looked down,
The waning moon half-faced!
In that pale sky and sere, snow-waiting earth,
What sign was there of the immortal birth?
What herald of the One?
Lo! swift as thought the heavenly radiance came,
A rose-red splendor swept the sky like flame,
Up rolled the round, bright sun!
And all was changed. From a transfigured world
The moon's ghost fled, the smoke of home-hearths curled
Up the still air unblown.
In Orient warmth and brightness, did that morn
O'er Nain and Nazareth, when the Christ was born,
Break fairer than our own?
The morning's promise noon and eve fulfilled
In warm, soft sky and landscape hazy-hilled
And sunset fair as they;
A sweet reminder of His holiest time,
A summer-miracle in our winter clime,
God gave a perfect day.
The near was blended with the old and far,
And Bethlehem's hillside and the Magi's star
Seemed here, as there and then,--
Our homestead pine-tree was the Syrian palm,
Our heart's desire the angels' midnight psalm,
Peace, and good-will to men!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Monochromatricks For M'lady Tara
When winter comes the forest trees
all do a colourful striptease
Discarding their leaves one by one
until the very last is gone
but even so they’re beautiful
although not so colourful.
A tracery of black on white
silhouettes against the light
grey white of the wintery sky
But pleasing to an artists eye
I like the sheer simplicity
I can attempt successfully
to paint though I’m an amateur.
In monochrome as I prefer
.
19/10/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Winter Pond
Sting-chill of winter matt –
Her frozen hand caressed us all;
And calming bleach of silence
Pressed upon the rustic scape
To leave an ashen underbelly –
Once raging summer chroma.
Even Winter’s gelid lungs laboured
Under heavy drag of flakes –
Their pilgrimage: to stay a deadened floor
In crunch-white peace.
And round about, the weight of time
– Collapsing under Winter’s drag –
Transmutes to grey: it’s three o’clock –
No lights pricking black out here! –
Even the night globe,
The Great Reflector – stonewalled;
Camouflaged by lead-laden cloud
Lolling in the claustrophobic noon.
At ground, a farm pond –
Seized in a dark hiatus –
Offered up repentance –
Why, it dared to harbour life!
I forgave it in my desperate gaze
Upon the crazy-paving surface,
That sealed in the black-chill temperature,
Where at bottom, something nithered
Still survived.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
win ter winter
winter winter winter
winter winter winter winter winter
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Does Anyone Know The Colour Of God
God made us different so we could give,
Different perceptions on how we should live,
If he knew it would've caused so much trouble,
He'd have left our planet as a pile of rubble.
He gave us all colours as a lasting gift,
I doubt that he dreamed it would cause such a rift,
But don't blame God for this shady assault,
He gave us all minds, it's entirely our fault.
We really need to focus attention,
As our world enters a dangerous dimension,
That togetherness is what will set the pace,
Not the colour of a persons face.
If the Human Race would just unite,
Then maybe for once we'd all see the light,
That to battle through our stormy weather,
The only way forward is to work together.
Take Lewis Hamilton from formula one,
A world champion second to none,
His Father was black, his mother white,
That never stopped him getting it right.
Another example is the man called Barack,
His mother was white his father black,
This proves beyond doubt what we can achieve,
If we get rid of prejudice and start to believe.
Obama's now president of the United States,
Proud that he walked through those White House gates,
The peoples selection has shown us all,
That regardless of colour we can all stand tall.
If everything we seen was drab and grey,
Would our world look as nice that way,
The flowers and animals on our beautiful planet,
The eagles and ospreys, the sea loving gannet.
Just look at the rainbow way up high,
Those united colours grace a wonderful sky,
The insects the trees all differing shades,
From the Sahara desert to the Everglades.
Regardless of colour you're a Human Being,
None have the right to think We're all seeing,
That one race is strong whilst the other is weak,
The meaning of life proves we're all unique.
If we'd only use our God given skill,
We could unite as one if we had the will,
It's part of our heritage the colour of our skin,
Be proud but united and our battle we'll win.
In essence all Humans are much the same,
As we try to survive in life's great game,
If we could set our differences aside,
The racists and bigots would have nowhere to hide.
Black and White would be no more,
We'd all be welcome at each others door,
The Human Race must now realise,
If we don't work as one our planet dies.
If only the world would follow Gods lead,
The preachers of hate would be forced to concede,
Your colour is beautiful it should not be confined,
It will take every shade to save humankind.
You may be black, brown or red even yellow or white,
Regardless of colour we we all know wrong from right.
If we stopped preaching hatred against one another,
We could actually live as sister and brother.
When you pray to your saviour do you honestly care,
What shade they might be as long as they're there,
This whole concept of colour by humans is flawed,
'' Does Anyone Know The Color Of God ''
The Colors Are Winter Dimned
THE COLORS ARE WINTER- DIMNED
The colors are winter dimned
Fading ambers and greens
And yet the Beauty of it all-
I do not know if I have ever been so happy
As I am these days
I know it will fade
By unnatural shock God forbid
Or by a problem mestastisizing
But for now
For this morning
I am so so happy-
It is as if all this Jerusalem world I live in
Is now more beautiful than I can wholly see -
And the beauty of the leaves and the trees
The white pale and blue sky
Even the grey pavements
Say how much more Beauty is seen
Than can be ever said-
I am so happy now-
I know it cannot last and it must end-
But the colors are still here
Even as they are fading.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smoke
Smoke
From the Saga Island smoke rose. flames and rivers ran full of
icy water; the modern Vikings had been beaten and shamed.
Cold winter, summer roses are grey and leaves on trees have
taken on an autumnal hue. Clouds of ashes drifting south day
is night the world has lost it colour and cinemas only show
black& white movies.
East the smoke is black and smells of cordite and bulldozed
buildings. Poor Palestine it is not a state, but a dream, which
trashed people try to make into a reality. Moslems, Christians
and righteous Jews, the world belongs to us, to have peace
there must be fairness. Oops! Before my eyes another house is
razed to the ground, dust is blinding me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Colour My World
It's so cold
Nipping at my fingers.
I bleed icicles
People fall from bicycles
In disbelief.
The wind howls
A dog growls
In the backyard
Of loneliness
- The thief.
Only your sweet caress
Can colour my world.
Monosyllabic
Words are hurled
By lazy minds
Who pull the blinds
On grey.
I need to feel
The fire that burns.
Need to feed
A heart that yearns
Life's cabaret.
People so sychophantic.
Just call me
Radical romantic.
Who would only die
For love.
To gladly look above
And see God's flag unfurled.
Only you
And your eyes
Dare to hypnotise,
Crystalize
Ashen skies
Twirled blue.
And please
Colour my world
With passion.
In this zoo.
poem by Kevin East
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Dream In Colour
You wake up to tell me (that youre numb inside, that the feelings all have died)
Youre praying and youre saying (that you do believe, but I dont believe thats true)
Everything has always been there
Nothing goes away that wont come back
Youre living in a house of cards
And youre blowing down the stack
She sleeps under a rainbow
She wont dream in colour
She thinks that her soul is painted
Grey or black or white
Sleeping under a rainbow
She could dream in colour
Dream in colour tonight
Glass mirror, look in (I know its hard to see, when the one you free is you)
Sleep walking, high talking (but the colours arent real and the things you feel dont last)
You sit there looking at the sunrise
Not knowing if the day has come or gone
Wondering why it turns you off
When it never turns you on
She sleeps under a rainbow
She wont dream in colour
She thinks that her soul is painted
Grey or black or white
Sleeping under a rainbow
She could dream in colour
Dream in colour tonight
Picking at the lock on the front door
Pulling at the shutters on the windows
But youre living in a house of shadows
Even though youre lonely you think its you
Sitting at that table set for one
Youre waiting for the guest that never comes
She sleeps under a rainbow
She wont dream in colour
She thinks that her soul is painted
Grey or black or white
Sleeping under a rainbow
She could dream in colour
Dream in colour tonight
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter's Cold
As the Weather turns colder
the landscape changes colorfully
beautiful shades of greens to lovely fall colors
to the cold of gray and whites
leaves tumble from the branches above
the temperature dropping so fast
send chills down our spines
time to bundle up for a cold winter season
Snow and cold will be upon us, sooner than we want
each winter brings a new tale
either freezing temperatures on heavy snows, sometimes both
snow brings skiers, sledders, skaters, ice fishermen to life
snow forts to snowmen everywhere
the beautiful white landscape comes to life
the sun's rays reflecting off the crystal snow
like glitter tossed around
so breathe taking to see and to enjoy
bundled up inside drinking hot chocolate
waiting for summer to come
beautiful winter turn your cold off and send us our summer sooner.
I miss the summer heat and beautiful outdoors
old man winter does bring some joy,
but for most it brings cold and snow
time for stories around the fireplace with Mom and Dad
hot cocoa and homemade cookies
stay warm for winter will come and go
poem by Michael Peterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This World Is Magic
Dreams can make you fly
This world is magic
Rainbows in the sky
This world is magic to me
Dreams can make you fly
This world is magic
We need peace on earth
The second birth of paradise
This world is magic
This world is magic to me
This world is magic
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
What is the magic of this world
We need peace on Earth
The second birth of paradise
This world is what we share
The nature and the air
Life could be paradise
Eternal peace is what we need
To live in harmony
For human history
Pray for a better world
When you close your eyes again
Planet Earth, that's the name of my place
I'm born in this world, in the entire space
Planet earth, is my home, is my face
Follow your trace embrace this human race
In case, there's a new decade in human history
I'm talking about respect this is my destiny
Feel free, and stop running away
From the doubt in your mind,- never fade to grey
Planet Earth, gentle and blue
Then cold as a rock, or ice without a hue
Planet earth, made out of dust
A big ball of metal, condemn to rust
Pray, let your soul be free
Find out how to heal a bleeding wound don't stand around
Life could be paradise, peace on earth is what I found
All around in a magic world from the air to the ground
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God's Colors
Earth wouldn't be as beautiful
if all God's flowers were blue.
If rainbows were only yellow
that would be a sad thing too.
Suppose the ocean and the sky
were just the color white.
And everyone on Earth wore black.
Wouldn't that be a sight?
God made the beautiful flowers
many colors, not just blue.
And He colored all his children
different colors too.
Whether we are white or black,
or as green as peas in a pod,
all of us are beautiful
in the sight of God.
poem by Ron Tranmer
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Winter's Spell
WINTER'S SPELL
Ended, hence, the glorious time of the sun’s lifespan,
The trees were fully clothed, in leaves
Resilient, they had sung merrily
But now, all had gone…
With deserts of sadness …..
What can a ball of cheese do?
Up from the sky…
If it cannot fill the tummy of a poor man...
The Moon covers the Earth down
Looking down at the rows of naked trees
With only a memory of leaves
Nipped by the frost, they want to be freed…
Ended up in the desolate stretches of snow
Eyes begged to see a scrap of light
But what it touched was a bare white Earth
His pale hands overworked
With no snow dogs they grieved...
And his legs were totally numb
With not even a sledge to slide through…
He was the only piece of life…
In the land of the white
With just a star to guide him north
Who put a spell on his fortune?
Who gave him this curse?
He shoved himself through the ice
Bewildered of his unpleasant fate
And at last his eyes found it for him
And far across, from the spells boundary
Stood a welcoming light for him
He ran with all his might
The home emerged larger
Running for food and shelter
He ran and looked through the windows
Marvellously lit decorated
Sat there in an armchair, a woman, old
With shelves of homemade thoughts to dust through
He knocked to get in
Opened it was by the women,
Bewitchingly beautiful, she was
The smile made melt down the things around
And he got in, leaving behind the spell
To live with her forever and ever and ever
That was the end of his fate
And from the windows he looked,
To see the moon smile…
26/09/08
© Copyright Aiswarya T Anish, Kerala, India
poem by Aiswarya T. Anish
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The Forest
The edge of the forest stands
Against the grey, white sky
Like a row of colourless headstones
Stripped trees emerge
Tombs of a bleak winter
Silhouetted in the dull light
Against the imaginings of man
No light or life escapes
The depths of the forest
The thoughts which swell there
Creates in them a fear
Some great sadness hidden
Branches reach out like clawed hands
Pointing into a nothingness
Or grabbing, pulling inwards
To the shadows and the darkness
Of the deathly forest floor
The silence that awaits
Far beneath the grey, white sky
The morning becomes forgotten
Beyond the edge of the forest
Where shadows hide
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A man called DAVE
I am a man, called DAVE
My story is boring
But you will be amazed to find
I am a man called Dave
Ordinary sometimes kind
A man called Dave
I wear a size eight shoe
Never get the blues
Never been done in
Nor comitted a mortal sin
And my childhood was full of grey and rainy days kept in
Monochrome at best but never black or blue
I was never starved or beaten
And I never went to Eton
Or grew up in a town house with a silver spoon
I can be quite erratic
But was never locked in an attic
I was never a fanatic
Apolitical
Never spiritual
Devoid of potent points of view
I am a man called DAVE
You may have seen me on the news
For being boring
And being conventional
A one dimensional
Just like you and you and, (you)
I could have changed name to JOE
Joe Public just like you
But I am Dave a man called Dave
And I'm so extraordinary for being square
Devoid of any point of view
I'm on the telly in the news
Soon to publish 'BORING SNORING'
my life story
Coming to a cinema near you!
Dave MY NAME IS DAVE
MY IDLE HOUR AWAITS
soon to be forgotten
Cos I'm like YOU and YOU and (you)
poem by Yvette Smith
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Behold a Pale Stranger
Behold a pale stranger
with white skeletal arms.
A blood red dance
in a mask of death.
Behold a pale stranger
with a cross of misgiving,
a staff of virginal white,
and arms crossed on his chest.
Behold a pale stranger
with a message of pending doom.
A white stallion
with headless rider.
Behold a pale stranger,
an empty shell of life.
7 January 1982
poem by David Harris
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It’s April
It’s April and the autumn rain
patters down for days long,
the Magalies Mountains are covered
by grey-black clouds
and later there are summer days
where the sun still hangs white-hot
and I long, want the summer
to last forever
but the years are already
leaving their marks on my face,
are drawing through my hair
and like some of the trees
in a winter I will also turn skeleton,
become stripped from my better days
and then at a time
will be part of the cold earth.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Summer
my summer is boring
my summer is wake
my summer is harebell
my summer is stupid
my summer is in my sisters house
my summer is in a sweet 16 prates
my summer is in my cozens house
my summer is away from my house
my summer is just dome
my summer is boring
my summer is messing my men
my summer is the worst summer of my bf
i wish i was whet my men this summer
i wish i was happy in the summer.
my bday is in the summer
this summer is just this summer: (
poem by Jencelyn Marin
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