Related quotes: The sun's my fire. Golden,...

White Sunshine

The sun's my fire.
Golden, from a magnificence of blue,
Should be its hue.
But woolly clouds,
Like boarding-house old ladies, come and sit
In front of it.
White sunshine, then,
That has the frosty glimmer of white hair,
Freezes the air.
They must forget,
So self-absorbed are they, so very old,
That I'll be cold.

poem by Lesbia Harford
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The Final Painting

The white cloud passed over the land
there is sea always round the land
the sky is blue always above the cloud
the cloud in the blue continues to move
- nothing is limited by the canvas or frame -
the white cloud can be pictured like any
other clouds or like a fist of wool
or a white fur rose
The white cloud passes a shadow across
the landscape and so there is a passing greyness
The grey and the white both envelop
the watcher until he too is drawn into the picture
It is all a journey from a room through a door
down stairs and out into the street
The cloud could possess the house
The watchers have a mutual confidence
with the approaching string of white clouds
It is beyond spoken words what they are
silently mouthing to the sky
There was no mystery in this - only the firm
outline of people in overcoats on a hillside
and the line of clouds above them
The sky is blue The cloud white with touches
of grey - the rest - the landscape below -
can be left to the imagination
The whole painting quietly dissolved itself
into its surrounding clouds

poem by Lee Harwood
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Early one afternoon

Early one afternoon
I walked through the streets
of a small village
and it had to be in Italy
and was probably in Corona
or Tuscany.

a Baker with a white overcoat
and white hat on his head
rang on his bike’s bell for me
and pedalled pass,
with an old green bike
at the Pizza Palour.

There were long white breads
and green wine bottles,
in the baskets of his bicycle
and he had a big bush
of red blue lanvender flowers in one hand.

Across from me there were three small tables
with white table-covers,
at the Villa Toscana
and I could read some dishes
from the menu on the wall.

At the wall a young woman
with dark hair and an indigo dress
laughed sharp and bright,
while she waited
that a well built waitress
pour some more wine.

The image of the beautiful waitress
with black hair and deep dark eyes,
that bends forward
still stays with me.

In front of me at Le Art
there were a row of paintings,
depicting nudes to the finest detail
on painter’s easels.

I walked nearer
and I could see rows of violet lavender bushes
against the ridge in the distance
and Villa’s, that stand yellow gold
up on the hill
and looked impressive
against the deep blue sky.

When I got back to myself
I was at the fountain
in front of the mural
in our garden
and the golden Persian cat,
watched me from the top of the wall
with a woolly tail that curled down
and it looked with golden eyes at me.

[Reference: Tuscan mural by Mandi. See the painting at my webpage: http: //www.mabooki.com/poems/display/1417_Early_one_af ternoon.htm]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Melancholy

The blue soul has mutely closed,

In the open window the brown forest sinks,

The stillness of dark animals; in the valley

The mill grinds, by the footbridge clouds rest outpoured,

The golden strangers. A procession of steeds

Gallops red in the village. The garden brown and cold.

The aster freezes, so delicately painted on the fence

The sunflower's gold almost flown away.

The stumpets' voices; dew is poured out

On the hard grass and stars white and cold.

See death painted in the dear shadow,

Every countenance full of tears and closed.

poem by Georg Trakl
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Connect to Nature

White hair
Blue eyes
White clouds
Blue skies

Pink hair
Brown shirt
Pink flowers
Brown dirt

So many ways to connect to nature
Let's fix ourselves; change our future

poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
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Red White And Blue

We don't have no plastic L.A. Frynds,
ain't on the edge of no popular trend.
Ain't never seen the inside of that magazine GQ.
We don't care if you 're a lawyer, or a texas oil man,
or some waitress busting ass in some liquor stand.
If you got Soul
We hang out with people just like you
My hair's turning white,
my neck's always been red,
my collar's still blue,
we've always been here
just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you could say
we've always been,
Red, White, and Blue
Ride our own bikes To Sturgis
we pay our own dues,
smoking camels, drinking domestic BREWS
You want to know where I have been
just look at my hands
Yeah, I've driven by the White House,
Spent some time in jail.
Momma cried but she still wouldn't pay my bail.
I ain't been no angel,
But even God, he understands.
My hair's turning white,
my neck's always been red,
my collar's still blue,
we've always been here
just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you could say
we've always been,
Red, White, and Blue
Yeah that's right!
My Daddy worked hard, and so have I,
paid our taxes and gave our lives
to serve this great country
so what are they complaining about
Yeah we love our families, we love our kids
you know it is love that makes us all so rich
That's where were at,
If they don't like it they can just
get the HELL out!
Yeah!
My hair's turning white,
my neck's always been red,
my collar's still blue,
we've always been here
just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you could say

song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sexy Woman

white clouds
blue sea
green long island
on the shallow waters
a woman faces me
white bra
white panty

(two piece)

at the middle
the water touches
the center of her
being

the grass of her earth
is wet

she walks away
dripping

her hair is long and curly
black

she does not own me.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Our Flag (Philippines)

Red, white an’ blue
Three golden stars an’ a sun
Symbol of sovereignty
Seal of authority
In war n’ peace
Overrides injustice
Prosper’ty booms
As if flower garden blooms

Red, white an’ blue
Three golden stars an’ a sun
Proud and brave
Overcome ocean waves
Against foreign aggression
And eminent invasion
Let all be gone
Exter-internal agon

Red, white an’ blue,
Three golden stars an’ a sun
Icon of mighty n’ power
As tall as d’ highest tower
Sturdy as stone pyramid
Withered d’ storm’s eyelid
Remains eminent mornin’ after
Victors of no banter

Red, white an’ blue,
Three golden stars an’ a sun
Geniuses for heroes,
Dies under bolos an’ arrows
Rebels thru pen an’ paper
Motherland in blooper
Executes nation’s sons
Sacred ground n’ crimson

Red, white an’ blue
Three golden stars an’ a sun
Fathers, mothers,
Sisters an’ brothers,
Looks up to azure sky
Pledges no more to shy
Vowed nev’r to be slaved
Soldiers nev’r to enslave

Red, white an’ blue
Three golden stars an’ a sun
Together we endure an’ cry
Ready to defend an’ die
To fight corruption an’ tyranny
Locates, defeats terrorism’s nanny
At day ends our nation’s free
From all crisis’ spree

poem by Noel Horlanda
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The White Goddess

All saints revile her, and all sober men
Ruled by the God Apollo's golden mean -
In scorn of which we sailed to find her
In distant regions likeliest to hold her
Whom we desired above all things to know,
Sister of the mirage and echo.

It was a virtue not to stay,
To go our headstrong and heroic way
Seeking her out at the volcano's head,
Among pack ice, or where the track had faded
Beyond the cavern of the seven sleepers:
Whose broad high brow was white as any leper's,
Whose eyes were blue, with rowan-berry lips,
With hair curled honey-coloured to white hips.

The sap of Spring in the young wood a-stir
Will celebrate with green the Mother,
And every song-bird shout awhile for her;
But we are gifted, even in November
Rawest of seasons, with so huge a sense
Of her nakedly worn magnificence
We forget cruelty and past betrayal,
Heedless of where the next bright bolt may fall.

poem by Robert Graves
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Unforgiving Love

one day a blue bird fell in love with a white rose..the rose was envious of everybod falling in love and was afraid that she will get hurt..the blue bird told her that he had loved her from afar but was too scared to tell the white rose how much he actaully did...the white rose told the bird when my petals turn from white to red i will fall in love with you back....the blue bird came by and by everyday and told the white rose how much he loved her...until one day the blue bird cut his wings and soaked the white rose with his blood...the white rose's petals turned from white to a luscious red and she realized how much the blue bird loved her..but it was too late the blue bird fell in front of the rose and the rose was red forever..that's why roses are giving to the ones we loved

poem by Ariff Khan
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White Comedy

I waz whitemailed
By a white witch,
Wid white magic
An white lies,
Branded by a white sheep
I slaved as a whitesmith
Near a white spot
Where I suffered whitewater fever.
Whitelisted as a whiteleg
I waz in de white book
As a master of white art,
It waz like white death.

People called me white jack
Some hailed me as a white wog,
So I joined de white watch
Trained as a white guard
Lived off the white economy.
Caught and beaten by de whiteshirts
I waz condemned to a white mass,
Don't worry,
I shall be writing to de Black House.

poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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Frosty on His Flag (Clementine Sweet)

frosty is lonely
he hangs from a winter blue flag by a pink-roofed house
being blown by a salt-sea breeze

he has no snow people to talk to
he ripples his cloth edges among the sky-high palm trees and
above the candy-green grass

frosty is an outcast
to contrast the deep blue of his flag lies the pale desert sky,
shot through with bright Cali sunshine

frosty is a picture of out-of-placement:
he hangs and he hangs
he sighs and he sighs
all the while homesick
all the while thinking
that sometimes, sometimes
irony is clementine sweet

poem by Gina Prettybrowneyes
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Winters Embrace

I feel the cold,
The bitter taste,
An icy grip,
Winters Embrace,
My blood, in a flash, freezes,
No longer does flow,
And in my raven black hair,
Angel-White snow,

poem by Kieran J1996
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The Sunshine after The Rain

The sunshine after the rain
The grey darkness is gone
The sun back mighty in glory
crowned with golden rays
Sending love and warmth
to inhabitants of the world
Nature beauty is revealed
in remarkable way
the rain water drops lingering
kissing the roses,
the flowers and lilies
spreading over the fields
the pastures sparkling green
the awesome trees
the skies painted in crystal blue
the white shades of clouds
slowly passing
All bringing joy
nourishing our soul
The sunshine
The sunshine after the rain

poem by Sherif Monem
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A White House

There is an old abandoned house.

I planted a white rose in it's precious soil.

Clouds begin to rain calmly on the peaceful rose.

Its sparkling roots and stems slowly cover the house.

I returned the next day only to see the white rose turn the house into a big, beautifully white rose.

poem by Roshaun Beasley
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Today

This is To-day, a child in white and blue
Running to meet me out of Night who stilled
The ghost of Yester-eve; this is fair Morn
The mother of To-morrow. And these clouds
That chase the sunshine over gleaming hills
Are thoughts, delighting in the golden change
And the ceremony of their drifting state.

This is To-day. To-morrow might bring death,—
And Life, the gleeful madrigal of birds,
Be drowned in glimmer of sleep. To-day I know
How sweet it is to spend these eyes, and boast
This bubble of vistaed memory and sense
Blown by my joy aloft the glittering airs
Of heavenly peace. Oh take me to yourselves,
Earth, sky, and spirit! Let me stand within
The circle of your transience, that my voice
May thrill the lonely silences with song.

poem by Siegfried Sassoon
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Invocation II

COME to-night in a dream to-night,
Come as you used to do,
Come in the gown, in the gown of white,
Come in the ribbon of blue;
Come in the virgin's colours you wear,
Come through the dark and the dew,
Come with the scent of the night in your hair,
Come as you used to do.

Blue and white of your eyes and your face,
White of your gown and blue,
Will you not come from the happy place,
Come as you used to do?
Tears so many, so many tears
Where there were once so few--
Can they not wash the gray of the years
From the white of your gown and blue?

poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Little Girl's Song

Do not mind my crying, Papa, I am not crying for pain.
Do not mind my shaking, Papa, I am not shaking with fear;
Tho' the wild wild wind is bideous to hear,
And I see the snow and the rain.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?

Somebody else that you love, Papa,
Somebody else that you dearly love
Is weary, like me, because you're away.
Sometimes I see her lips tremble and move,
And I seem to know what they're going to say;
And every day, and all the long day,
I long to cry, 'Oh Mamma, Mamma,
When will Papa come back again?'
But before I can say it I see the pain
Creeping up on her white white cheek,
As the sweet sad sunshine creeps up the white wall,
And then I am sorry, and fear to speak;
And slowly the pain goes out of her cheek,
As the sad sweet sunshine goes from the wall.
Oh, I wish I were grown up wise and tall,
That I might throw my arms round her neck
And say, 'Dear Mamma, oh, what is it all
That I see and see and do not see
In your white white face all the livelong day?'
But she hides her grief from a child like me.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?

Where were you going, Papa, Papa?
All this long while have you been on the sea?
When she looks as if she saw far away,
Is she thinking of you, and what does she see?
Are the white sails blowing,
And the blue men rowing,
And are you standing on the high deck
Where we saw you stand till the ship grew gray,
And we watched and watched till the ship was a speck,
And the dark came first to you, far away?
I wish I could see what she can see,
But she hides her grief from a child like me.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?

Don't you remember, Papa, Papa,
How we used to sit by the fire, all three,
And she told me tales while I sat on her knee,
And heard the winter winds roar down the street,
And knock like men at the window pane,
And the louder they roared, oh, it seemed more sweet
To be warm and warm as we used to be,
Sitting at night by the fire, all three?
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?

Papa, I like to sit by the fire;
Why does she sit far away in the cold?
If I had but somebody wise and old,
That every day I might cry and say,
'Is she changed, do you think, or do I forget?
Was she always as white as she is to-day?
Did she never carry her head up higher?'
Papa, Papa, if I could but know!
Do you think her voice was always so low?
Did I always see what I seem to see
When I wake up at night and her pillow is wet?
You used to say her hair it was gold-
It looks like silver to me.
But still she tells the same tale that she told,
She sings the same songs when I sit on her knee,
And the house goes on as it went long ago,
When we lived together, all three.
Sometimes my heart seems to sink, Papa,
And I feel as if I could be happy no more.
Is she changed, do you think, Papa,
Or did I dream she was brighter before?
She makes me remember my snowdrop, Papa,
That I forgot in thinking of you,
The sweetest snowdrop that ever I knew!
But I put it out of the sun and the rain:
It was green and white when I put it away,
It had one sweet bell and green leaves four;
It was green and white when I found it that day,
It had one pale bell and green leaves four,
But I was not glad of it any more.
Was it changed, do you think, Papa,
Or did I dream it was brighter before?

Do not mind my crying, Papa,
I am not crying for pain.
Do not mind my shaking, Papa,
I am not shaking for fear;
Tho' the wild wild wind is hideous to hear,
And I see the snow and the rain.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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How to make your wishes come true

She liked white and had not said a word yet

On her tenth birthday
she stood on the red steps
of the red opera house
-the red opera house on the north side of Sydney Harbour
almost opposite the white opera house

She scattered orange petals, yellow petals, green leaves and spoke
in a light blue voice
A bird of navy blue pink and gold feathers stood by her. Was this the grateful bird? Purple gold and white danced
She said
white stillness, pure gold, purple wonder, gold strength, pink joy, pink infinity, navy blue now, strong indigo blue, light blue fountain, the green first reason, compassionate orange, endless yellow,
royal red, single red, free orange, free yellow, green depth as clear as crystal, all attractive light blue, strong indigo blue, strong navy blue, pink wishes, gold compassion, compassionate purple,
gold of golds, of creativity, white of whites, gold truth, purple mentor, funny gold, pink friend of children, navy blue of nature,
indigo blue knowledge, light blue song of nature, green creation, yellow in senses, orange guide, red way, red inspirer, orange giver, yellow help, dazzling green, light blue of the delicate, with indigo blue eyes, navy blue good, with pink kind eyes, golden hair, golden complexion, purple complexion, gold warmth, of white space, white and gold love, of all purple knowledge, gold presence, pink in thunder and storms, navy blue pleasure, indigo blue beauty,
light blue lines, all attractive green, of yellow stirring music, of orange, red refuge, clear red, orange orange, yellow yellow, with green giving hands, of green, light blue truth, indigo blue essence, navy blue sparkle, pink with gold, purple guide, gold here, here white, white is the sun with penetrating vision, purple and golden constant winner, gold reach, of all pink, infinite navy blue, indigo blue knowledge, light blue care, deep green in greens, orange truth, dedicated to yellow, red peace, red glory, orange beauty, yellow, of green and light blue evenings, handsome indigo blue, intelligent navy blue, pink of pinks, of gold golds, purple purple, gold friend,
openness, formless white and gold, prevailing purple, efficient purple, purple origin, purple form, gold and permanent pink, navy blue belief, indigo blue blue, dense green, orange, yellow, red friend, red
and fell silent

Are the colours telling us that reciting the girl's words could make all our wishes come true? What else do red orange yellow green light blue indigo blue navy blue pink gold purple gold white know?
Today is a Monday

poem by Bhupen Thakker
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October Day

The bright white clouds against the blue
are moving slowly, passing through.
Their shadows cast upon the ground
move slowly too without a sound.
The winter sunshine’s slanted rays.
Join in the game and seem to chase
the shadows which the clouds have cast
Shining brightly when they’ve passed.
The sky is clear unbroken blue.
It feels a little warmer too.
A little sunshine does I find
lift up my spirits change my mind
about the way I view the day
I do not like it when it’s grey.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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It Really Never Was...

the day is getting darker
painting shadows on the wall
broken wings of blue skies
going for a moment

everything's now in the evening
with longings in the deep
and wishes still not happening

the winter
glasses with frosty roses
and perfect days in somberness
in the white weather

every thought
is now alone
reaching to the mountains
faraway
in silences of time

every hour
is cold and getting colder
with drifting clouds
in northern skies
that can't hold back

how do I not be alone
when times are like these
how do I not feel the blues
when the clouds surrounds me
with few landings
into summer thoughts