At Night
At night
From the top of the hills
Of Tirumala Tirupati
I saw the stars
Studded the town below
I saw Sri Venkateswara
White Black Red Blue Yellow
Who is there swallow
Sri Venkateswara is with
My elbow
And my life is not hollow.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Tirupati Tirumala Devasthanam
While going up and up and up
Jumping over hills over hills over hills
Tirupati Tirumala Devasthanam arrived.
You have to remained on line said my wife
Time might ranged from twentyfour hours
For a Darshan of just a second.
Have patience and patience only count
If you like you may have water Tea coffee
If you like you may take rest on line
Watch the television live aarti snnana.
You are not allowed to take any bag camera chhapal.
The holy God richest God please see and get mukti all.
Tirupati is the Sakhyat Vishnu and the
Manager of the world
You just have a wish and
See it is fulfilled.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A spring evening
Outside the irises flower yellow and purple
and I haven’t seen a red one yet
and there are some pink and white blossoms
on the fruit trees
and the streetlights burn continually
glowing orange-yellow
all day and all night
as if the municipality
does not know how to do things right
and in the fading evening light
the moon is full and white
and the evening star is already shining bright
and a hot breeze sweeps in
through the open windows
and I wonder when the first spring rain
is going to fall
and in the distance I see thunder
crashing down
in blue-white flashes, but the storm
is blown away and again the sky is clear
and the black speckled by stars.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Choose Your Color
I will paint the walls blue
Blue is calm, blue is power
Blue is the color of tranquility
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the ceiling green
Green is healthy, green is peace
Green makes time move faster
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the floor red
Red is fire, red is danger
Red is the symbol of passion
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the sky purple
Purple is sad, purple is gloomy
Purple is the color of romance
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the tree black
Black is fear, black is death
Black is the symbol of grief
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the street yellow
Yellow is happy, yellow is fresh
Yellow is the color of sunshine
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the fence orange
orange is wisdom, orange is wealth
Orange is the color of success
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint everything white
White is good, white is pure
White is the color of faith
Have you seen my colors yet?
(August 16th,2006)
poem by Christopher G. Turner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shattered windows, Colors of white
Across the street is a new house with a room painted red, with no holes of white.
Next to me, a house purple, with its color pealing off, with holes of black and white
At the end of the street, an old house once yellow, what now remains white.
The sound of a hammer building a house, entering a place with a color unknown.
On the street,
Windows covered with ice
Some shine with light.
Some broken
Some fixed
Some lost, out of sight.
A house, two blocks from here.
Shines with lights of yellow, red, and green everywhere.
A wall keeping the wind from blowing anywhere.
The house next door, at the dawn of the day.
Paints its room black, and peals the color away.
The wall crumbles.
The wind blows across the colors of yellow, red and green
Breaks all the windows.
Turns the yellow to blue, red to black, and green to white.
The house two blocks away.
Adds a line of yellow red and green everyday.
To allow the house of blue, black and white to shine for us some day.
poem by Linda ErikssonBique
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Blue Rose
A red rose for love,
My red rose for luck.
The black rose on my bed,
For my death and for yours.
Red rose for the blood
That drips off my finger.
Black for the hate
The swells in my heart.
Pink for the joy,
The wonder of the world.
White for the pure,
Thats very far from me.
Yellow for the sunshine,
That lightens up our day.
Red for the heart,
That crumbled in my chest.
Black for the grave,
That I will be in after death.
Red, black, red, black.
Yellow, pink, blue
For my soul I leave.
Blue for me to wander.
Blue for the ocean,
And for my soul we share.
poem by Brianna Wilshusen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spelt from Sibyl's Leaves
Earnest, earthless, equal, attuneable, ' vaulty, voluminous, … stupendous
Evening strains to be tíme’s vást, ' womb-of-all, home-of-all, hearse-of-all night.
Her fond yellow hornlight wound to the west, ' her wild hollow hoarlight hung to the height
Waste; her earliest stars, earl-stars, ' stárs principal, overbend us,
Fíre-féaturing heaven. For earth ' her being has unbound, her dapple is at an end, as-
tray or aswarm, all throughther, in throngs; ' self ín self steedèd and páshed—qúite
Disremembering, dísmémbering ' áll now. Heart, you round me right
With: Óur évening is over us; óur night ' whélms, whélms, ánd will end us.
Only the beak-leaved boughs dragonish ' damask the tool-smooth bleak light; black,
Ever so black on it. Óur tale, O óur oracle! ' Lét life, wáned, ah lét life wind
Off hér once skéined stained véined variety ' upon, áll on twó spools; párt, pen, páck
Now her áll in twó flocks, twó folds—black, white; ' right, wrong; reckon but, reck but, mind
But thése two; wáre of a wórld where bút these ' twó tell, each off the óther; of a rack
Where, selfwrung, selfstrung, sheathe- and shelterless, ' thóughts agaínst thoughts ín groans grínd.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Sky-Minded
Blue sky,
blue sky.
Looking at you, wishing the day by.
Blue sky,
purple sky.
Storm coming in, here it is, there's the eye.
Blue sky,
grey sky.
The earth is wailing, the thunder yells, and the clouds cry.
Blue sky,
grey sky,
black sky.
Tore away at the moon, swallowed stars, listened to the sun die.
Black sky
Green sky
Orange sky
Red sky
Pink and yellow and mean sky.
Come on and roll in; it's only in my mind.
poem by Delilah Miller
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Rainbow, Rainbow
I know as I look at you out from my window
Tomorrow you retreat back to your shadow
Today stripes of colors brighten my disco
Red, orange, green, blue, violet, and yellow
So rainbow, rainbow
Before you give the elbow
Take it nice and slow
Let your colors gaze at me and glow
Make the warm sunshine once again flow
Today you display your colorful cargo
With your yellow as bright as a meadow
You stand on your own curved beautifully solo
With colors I find so beautiful to swallow
So rainbow, rainbow
Before you give the elbow
Take it nice and slow
Gaze at me and glow
Let my sunshine flow
Copyright 2008 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Black Mirror
Black Vs White
White Vs black
the mirror is against me
Or am i against the mirror?
we ARE the black Vs white
we are the dawn, battling the night
we are the stars in the evening sky
and we are the blood spilled in the hollow, dark night
we are brother and sister
Relatives yet foes
we will destroy each other
for you can't have one without the other
you look at me
i know your story
we will each scream in pain
and scream for glory
and watching the blood spill down your skin
i clutch your hand as the light dims
in killing you
i have killed myself
we are each others own personal black mirror
and as we fall down to the grave
i look at you as you try to pray
we may both die
but i have won
for the dark always covers the sun.
and as you cry while i clutch your hand
i whisper in your ear, so only you may hear
Dear brother, brother of mine
you are my black mirror
and now it is time.
poem by Kiele Kane
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Music Paints the World
In every town and city small and large there is a music vibe with its inhabitants
Some music is inspiring, some music is depressing while other music is exciting
Angry music is red as red as blood dripping down your skin
Depressing music is navy blue like rain falling from the sky
Metal music is black as black as the sky
Rap music is a mixture of red, black and yellow. It is sometimes angry, sometimes dark and sometimes happy.
Relaxing music is blue just like the ocean
Happy music is yellow as yellow as the sun
The sound of music vibrantly paints the world
It has done so since the beginning of music and will continue to do so as long as people ordinary and famous keep on listening to music and performing music.
poem by Emily Krauss
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The Starry Night
That does not keep me from having a terrible need of — shall I say the word — religion. Then I go out at night to paint the stars. — Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother
The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry night! This is how
I want to die.
It moves. They are all alive.
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons
to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die:
into that rushing beast of the night,
sucked up by that great dragon, to split
from my life with no flag,
no belly,
no cry.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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White Sky
The white sky is in my dream
And it is so ugly to look at because he doesn't have any life to it
But white is also a boring color for the sky
Also I must admit that te snow is white and white is fine for the snow but Not for the sky
God please paint the sky blue tomorrow because I can't stand to look at that Boring white sky
God I want you to give some life to that sky by tomorrow
Please don't forget that
Because I am bragging tou to do something about that sky
God if you finish painting the sky with paint and a brush than you will be Able to add some stars at night
And make that stars shine at night I beat that people like me and Others will start to pay attention in the sky
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bright Colors
bright colors hang
on a horizontal pole
a white bench a red
pail and purple clouds
yellow sand black
sea grass and lavender
shadows umbrellas
on alternate orange and
white and saffron and
yellow green and crimson
blue sea with white foams
escape from a shrinking world
to the sea breeze and solitude
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Swallow
If sometimes
I could make you happy
if sometimes
you're feeling small
the truth is mine just to
do what I wanna do
this love is mine just to
say what I wanna say
Out on this lonely road
cold coffee and a cigarette
making a long distance call
I'm on some losing bet
We're not going down
we're not gonna take it baby
we're not going down
anyway you want it
we're not going down
we just got to be together now
and if you're feeling hollow
Hey, hey now swallow
And if your love's been lost and forsaken
if you've been left
passed up and broken too
the choice is yours just to
be where you wanna be
and the truth is yours just to
see what you wanna see
Out on this lonely road
where the black top never ends
we're racing up the hills
but we're losing it on th bends
We're not going down
we've just gotta be together baby
we're not going down
we ain't gonna take it now
we're not going down
we've gotta be there babe
and if you're feeling hollow
Hey, hey now swallow
you've got to swallow babe
Solo
We're not going down
we've gotta be there together babe
we're not going down
anyway you want it now
We're not going down
we've gotta be there
We're not going down
we've just gotta be together babe
and just your crazy ways
oh there's not an ordinary day
oh no
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thursday Afternoon
Her life is a show
One act follows the other everywhere she goes
She takes the leading role
She never plays herself
Save for the time shes on the stage
Color her black or white
Now either one reflects the teardrops
One extreme for the other
Nothing in between
Color her white for the princess she could be
Color her black for the troubled child she plays so well
Well shes dancing through hell on a dream
And blue is soul of the one
Reaching for the man that she hasnt got yet
And holding on to those hearts for lost causes
She could be so bright
But shes reaching for us all
Color her blue for the loneliness she feels
Shes hiding her heart in the sky
And this is a thursday afternoon
Its just another thursday afternoon
Its just another thursday afternoon
Color me grey
Im a little bit of everything today
And Im not sure just where Im going
Color me grey
Wishing I was something more of distinction
Color us all cause were just stars
Wishing our lives away
Into the distance
And out of existence
Color her black or white
Color her blue
Or color me grey
Color us all - were stars
Wishing our lives away
Now were stars
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Night Sky
The Night Sky
Stars Were So Bright In The Nights Dark Sky
The Little Lights That Lit Up The Black Spots In Space
Stars That We Wondered In
And Saw Many Wonderful Things
Like The Many Stars That Are Out There...
How There Are So Many Lights In The Night Sky...
How The Night Sky Could Look So Great
In Only Black And White
The Same Thing, The Same Looks..
Yet So Many Objects And Point Outs Of Our Imagination
Oh, How The Night Sky
When We Look On about Its The Same Sky We See When We're Away From Each other
The Same Crescent Moon, The Same Stars
The Same Look Outs That Remind Me Of You.
poem by Gabina Gomez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White And Black
He painted a picture all white and black
because in his life all color did he lack.
He lacked the yellow of the sun each day
for the sun had never come his way.
He lacked the green of fresh green grass
for the cement of the city he couldn't get past.
He lacked the blue of the sky above
for no one had ever showed him love.
He lacked the red that the rose did give
for no roses grew where he did live.
He lacked all color from his sight.
All he knew was black and white.
The picture he painted could never tell
of how his life was a living hell.
He'd lost his sight when he was three
and the colors were a lost memory.
His sole memory was of dark and light,
night being dark, day being white.
And now he created art to define
everything that was in his mind.
But beauty came from the paint he used.
The black and white became infused
with the extracted senses of who he was,
a man filled with passion for what he does.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black And White
He painted a picture all white and black
because in his life all color did he lack.
He lacked the yellow of the sun each day
for the sun had never come his way.
He lacked the green of fresh green grass
for the cement of the city he couldn't get past.
He lacked the blue of the sky above
for no one had ever shown him love.
He lacked the red that the rose did give
for no roses grew where he did live.
He lacked all color from his sight.
All he knew was black and white.
The picture he painted could never tell
of how his life became a living hell.
He'd lost his sight when he was three
and the colors were a lost memory.
His sole memory was of dark and light,
night being dark, day being white.
And now he created art to define
everything that was in his mind.
But beauty came from the paint he used.
The black and white became infused
with the extracted senses of who he was,
a man filled with passion for what he does.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Were Late Afternoons As A Child
There were late afternoons when as a child
I would see the tall popular trees
making the pale blue sky seem much higher
where they grew next to the old farm dam
with there branches whispering
in the early night breeze,
with doves and finches calling
from their nests in the shelter of these trees,
when an early moon would appear
and the evening star would suddenly start twinkling
blue-white in its sheer brightness against a darker blue sky,
like a mother goose leading all of the other stars.
There were early evenings when the sun
died with its deep red glow touching
the hillocks that were covered in sugar bushes,
and red flowering aloes,
when the scent of protea flowers was sweet on the air,
when blue changed to darker black,
when darkness came suddenly
and a myriad of stars sparkled all over the sky
while in the distance fires came to life
at the rural mud huts, while jackals
and dogs started to howl at the bright yellow moon,
while I knew that mother would be home soon.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Were Late Afternoons
There were late afternoons when as a child
I would see the tall popular trees
making the pale blue sky seem much higher
where they grew next to the old farm dam
with there branches whispering
in the early night breeze,
with doves and finches calling
from their nests in the shelter of these trees,
when an early moon would appear
and the evening star would suddenly start twinkling
blue-white in its sheer brightness against a darker blue sky,
like a mother goose leading all of the other stars.
There were early evenings when the sun
died with its deep red glow touching
the hillocks that were covered in sugar bushes,
and red flowering aloes,
when the scent of protea flowers was sweet on the air,
when blue changed to darker black,
when darkness came suddenly
and a myriad of stars sparkled all over the sky
while in the distance fires came to life
at the rural mud huts, while jackals
and dogs started to howl at the bright yellow moon,
while I knew that mother would be home soon.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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