A Summer Red Bird Sings on an Elm Branch
The general colour above is light brownish-green, the sides of the head and the under parts generally brownish-yellow; larger wing-coverts dusky, edged with yellow; quills deep brown, externally margined with yellowish-red; tall-feathers of the same colour. The bill, eyes and legs are of the same tints as in the male.
I lost my way
And sorry extremely
For trespassing!
It's hard night flying
And I just landed
Papa's orchard
Are you still awake?
Promise to depart
Early in the morning
And if you prefer a love song
I don't mind to stay longer?
(To the Syrian nightingale Suzie Suhair Gharib.)
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
The Colour Yellow
Yellow is the colour
Of the smiles that you bring
Red is the colour
That makes you want to cringe
Blue is the colour
Of water and peace and hope
Green is the colour
That never ever mopes
Purple is the colour
Of grapes and different toys
But yellow is the colour
That I know can bring you joy
poem by Gwenevere Cornwell
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Colors
My skin is kind of sort of brownish
Pinkish yellowish white.
My eyes are greyish blueish green,
But I'm told they look orange in the night.
My hair is reddish blondish brown,
But it's silver when it's wet.
And all the colors I am inside
Have not been invented yet.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Lightgreen
Wolstencroft they called the guard,
big he was, a tub of lard.
Stood before the Pearly Gate
guarding heavenly estate.
Came St. Peter, checked ID,
said it simply cannot be
that a man who is not white
could come in, it was not right.
God was asked about his view,
he replied 'The sky is blue,
it is not your bloomin' race
or your black and ugly face.
It's the name, you could be green,
brownish like a Pinto Bean,
you would see that at this gate
we do not discriminate.'
Adds St. Peter 'We ain't mean,
but if someone who looks green
wants to gain up here admission
it's a simpleton's decision.
Green, the colour, comes in shades,
dark would be the Everglades,
no one here adores the night,
we prefer the green be light.'
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Green and blue
Green and blue
First-named of colours believe these two.
They first of colours by men were seen
This grass colour, tree colour,
Sky colour, sea colour,
Magic-named, mystic-souled, blue and green.
Later came
Small subtle colours like tongues of flame,
Small jewel colours for treasure trove,
Not fruit colour, flower colour,
Cloud colour, shower colour,
But purple, amethyst, violet and mauve.
These remain,
Two broad fair colours for our larger gain
Stretched underfoot or spreading wide on high,
Green beech colour, vine colour,
Gum colour, pine colour,
Blue of the noonday and the moonlit sky.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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How Many Shades Of Green
HOW MANY SHADES OF GREEN
How many shades of green
Olive green
Dark green
Light green
Yellow green
How many shades of yellow
Deep yellow
Rose yellow
Sun yellow
Morning light yellow
How many shades of light
How much light
How much Beauty in the world
How much Light-
How much- God.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The bird of paradise
The King of Saxony bird of paradise is a male
Black and yellow with brown iris, aqua-green mouth, grey legs,
With two enamel-blue brow-plumes. It seems to be so frail
Guarding its grey- brown female with chicks emerging from eggs
This wonderful bird is named in honor of King Albert.
A German king, devoted to military affair
Re-building Saint Afra School in Meissen like an expert
Proclaiming constitutional his monarchical chair.
He was a great Knight of the Order of the Golden Fleece
And a Grand Cross of the Order of the Tower and Sword
Arbitrating between the claimants of Lippe for peace
He was a very wise king constantly moving forward.
Birds of paradise or Pteridophora alberti
In montane forests of New Guinea guard and stay
Their diet consists of fruits, arthropods and sweet berries
And they're hunted by natives for ceremonial play.
Bird of paradise, Lophorina superba, is small
The male has iridescent green crown and erectile cape
Preparing its '' dance floor'', it attracts females with a call
Hopping in frantic circles having elliptical shape.
The competition amongst males for mates is very fierce
Because they do not have as many females as they need
It's like a bizarre courtship when their songs the silence pierce
Curious females approach but they're not prepared to cede.
Magnificent bird of paradise has complex plumage
The polygamous male owns incandescent yellow wings
Blue-green feathers and the yellow mantle for its image,
Its olive-brown female laying two creamy yellow eggs.
Wilson's bird of paradise male is very red and black
Its head is naked blue with black double cross pattern on it.
With green mouth, blue feet and the yellow mantle on its neck,
It has a brownish female and eats small pieces of fruit.
So red iris has the Twelve-wired bird of paradise male.
It has yellow plumes and twelve blackish wire-like filaments,
While Blue Birds have wire-like feathers emerging from end- tail
Being sexually dimorphic they live on some islands.
Lesser bird of paradise male has an emerald throat,
Those polygamous birds perform courtship displays in leks.
Even to their females themselves do not need to devote
In their nests, their females usually lay two pinkish eggs.
Carolus Linnaeus was named legless paradise bird
Skin being prepared without feet for Europe by natives;
People thought birds were visitors from Heaven but 'Surprise! '
They heard that birds can touch the earth and they were so naive
MCN: CE65W-7U2JW-EGQJA
© copyright Fri Feb 04 00: 31: 58 UTC 2011 - All Rights Reserved
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Sitting Here
Love,
Is it black or white?
Love,
Is it red or blue?
Sitting here lonely to understand the ways of love;
So tell me if you know the colour of love.
I am sitting here under a mango tree to think about it,
What is the colour of love?
Somebody should tell me now.
Love,
Is it green or yellow?
Love,
Is it brown or violet?
Oh what a lonely place to think about love!
The sun shines in all directions but,
The shade of this mango tree is my home;
Somebody should tell me the colour of love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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0366 Poem as snake, poem as not-snake
Walking the narrow, stepped path that bends
through our local sub-tropical,
magical landfall, full of strangeness,
there it was
across the path,
brownish, yellow and green markings,
waiting
adrenalin poured through the body,
waking instinct, emotion, thoughts;
possible next moves racing manifold through the mind,
uncertainties, no previous experience
of quite this situation to rely on
in our relatively snake-free neighbourhood
and it was big;
the body froze,
the eyes just looked
at the branch, covered in
green moss, yellow lichen,
brown and almost weightless with rot
so that the storm had tossed it
onto the path, into my path,
indifferent, innocuous,
so much so that as the body
restored to equilibrium
I was beyond kicking it aside -
in some sort of embarrassed respect;
it, unaffected by all I brought to it;
like a poem
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Lights: Green, Yellow, Red
flashes of lightning
sounds of thunder
woman whirling around
the green light
man gazing at the red light
above him
feathers of red chicken
around her head
asking if i am strong enough
asking where i slept last night
asking if i shall finally walk away
from her
as she sings at the top of her voice
her cheeks red like cherry
her eyes teeming with tears
as she swirls around the green light
as the man
stops on the yellow light
still thinking
whether to go or not to go
to stay and be part of this
traffic of paranoia
psychedelic feelings
the last goodbye
as she sings whether
she will live or die
she swirls around the yellow light now
with a knife on her hand
her wrist still pale and her pulse
still beating
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Shift in Perception 2
I used to hate colour yellow.
It made my complexion look sallow.
And reminded me of jaundiced eyes,
Stubborn stains that won’t go despite
Trying every trick.
It used to make me sick.
Ugly yellow top cabs,
Yellow fumes in chemistry lab,
But now that I have mellowed
I have spotted beautiful yellows.
It is the colour of spring and sunshine,
That is our life line.
Bright mustard fields,
Sunny daffodils,
Cheerful sunflowers,
Clusters of Amaltas,
Marigolds and yellow roses,
Daisies and buttercups,
Elegant yellow glaidioli,
That fascinate me as I pass by
And feel compelled to stop
at the florists shop.
Butter scotch ice cream,
Mango sliced and diced.
Golden yellow apples,
And musk melons,
Pale yellow peach liqueur,
A must after dinner.
Yellow candle flames,
Brass temple bells,
Brightest colour of the spectrum
It catches everyone’s attention
It’s the colour that now lifts my mood
How could I hate it I find myself brood
Just a change in mental association
How it alters one’s perception.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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My Coloring Book
(fred ebb / john kander)
For those who fancy colouring books
And lots of people do
Here's a new one for you
A most unusual colouring book
The kind you'll never see
Crayons ready?
Very well
Begin to colour me
These are the eyes that watched him as he walked away
Colour them grey
This is the heart that thought he would always be true
Colour it blue
These are the arms that held him and touched him
Lost him somehow
Colour them empty now
These are the beads i wore
Until she came between
Colour them green
This is the room that i sleep in and walk in
And weep in and hide in
That nobody, nobody's seen
Oh, colour it lonely, please
This is the man whose love i depended upon
Colour him gone
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Colouring Book
(fred ebb / john kander)
For those who fancy colouring books
And lots of people do
Heres a new one for you
A most unusual colouring book
The kind youll never see
Crayons ready?
Very well
Begin to colour me
These are the eyes that watched him as he walked away
Colour them grey
This is the heart that thought he would always be true
Colour it blue
These are the arms that held him and touched him
Lost him somehow
Colour them empty now
These are the beads I wore
Until she came between
Colour them green
This is the room that I sleep in and walk in
And weep in and hide in
That nobody, nobodys seen
Oh, colour it lonely, please
This is the man whose love I depended upon
Colour him gone
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Blind Child's Plea
What is the colour of the wind, Daddy?
Said the child so small
What is the colour of the wind?
For i can't see it at all
It is the colour of freedom, my child
Said the man to his son
It is the colour of all
The specks of light in the rainbow
That is the colour of the wind
What else, Daddy? What else?
Begged the child
Explain to me more
For you can see what i can not
The sun
The sea
The Earth
And more
It is the colour of beauty
Of peace and light
It is the colour of love
And of day and of night
It feels so free
Said the child
With arms outstreached
I never would have guessed
The colour of the wind
It is the colour you want it to be
And it doesn't matter if you can't see
For the wind is your friend
And you alone
Know the colours of the wind.
poem by Lucy Westmacott
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The Colour Of Your Eyes
(mckernan / tanega)
Who am i
To say you didnt love me?
When I cant remember
The colour of your eyes
The colour of your eyes
I dont know
How I missed loving you
Still I cant remember
The colour of your eyes
The colour of your eyes
Why didnt you see me
Standing there
Standing there with dreams of love?
To fill the empty shades of grey
I can see
Now that youre leaving me
All the shades of autumn
In the colour of your eyes
The colour of your eyes
The colour of your eyes
The colour of your eyes
The colour of your eyes
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mysteries Of The Nature
In the hot afternoon sun
They seemed eager to run
And cast a glance to each other
Remaining silent and closer...
One was bright in its yellow colour
The other soft in its light blue
One was sweet as a lover
The other... kind and true.
'Could you come nearer, please? ',
The yellow one echoed.
'I've got one wing diseased...',
The blue one complained.
'Close your eyes, see how I feel,
A loving daffodil...'
'Right. Now we both can fly! '
Thus spoke and smiled the blue butterfly.
poem by Maria C. Costa
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The Colour Of Our Skin
Why are we obsessed with a persons colour,
When life without it would be so much duller,
We only get one chance in this life,
Yet another's shade can cause so much strife.
We'll buy black and white paint without thinking twice,
Decorate Yellow and Red and say it looks nice,
Yet when it comes to the colour of a persons face,
For some unknown reason we think of their race.
Why do we create this terrible mess?
We are all human beings, no more no less,
Regardless of colour it's perfectly true,
One colour can do anything the other can do.
Let's try and put this into perspective,
All other life forms are just not as selective,
Colour to them is mainly for disguise,
It is also an attraction which pleases their eyes.
If we looked at these others then maybe we'd learn,
That colours an asset not a matter for concern,
Here are some examples which will show there's a link,
If nothing else they should make you think.
If ten people died from different cultures,
Then from above appeared some vultures,
Would they look down and say, which colour will we eat?
Of course they wouldn't to them we're just meat.
As the lions stalked humans out in the bush,
They thought which one will we kill if it comes to a push,
There's red and yellow and black and white,
We're not really sure which one is right.
The leader of the pride said, go catch your game
Forget their colour they all taste the same
We don't really care about colour or creed
If we don't kill we die we must have our feed.
Their attitude to life is more clever than us,
Simple ideals they make less of a fuss,
Their aim in this life is just to survive,
If we weren't here all lifeforms would thrive.
Humankind's made in Gods image is what they say,
So why do some humans feel this way,
What colour is God if that's really true,
If truth be told we do not have a clue.
Racism is a purely a human trait,
So what's going to happen when we reach Heavens gate,
Will God harbour racist thoughts in his head,
Then say no black or white just yellow and red.
That's the dilemma facing us here,
There are some we accept while others we fear,
If we could accept who we are comes from within,
There would be no need to worry about,
‘'The Colour Of Our Skin ‘'
For Anne Gregory
"Never shall a young man,
Thrown into despair
By those great honey-coloured
Ramparts at your ear,
Love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair."
"But I can get a hair-dye
And set such colour there,
Brown, or black, or carrot,
That young men in despair
May love me for myself alone
And not my yellow hair."
"I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair."
poem by William Butler Yeats (1933)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Red;
Red is the colour of anger welling up inside me,
Red is believing and then having doubt,
Red is the colour of love and romance,
Red is the colour of the end of my nose on a cold winter day.
The colour of little red riding hoods coat,
Red is mars high up in the sky;
The colour that flushes my cheeks after playing sport and getting embarressed.
The colour of my sore sad eyes after crying.
Red is the colour of my warm blood flooding my veins,
Which shows Human Bondage,
Which shows the life within me,
Red is the colour of ambition burning my soul,
Red is the colour of the devil, which feeds me my power.
poem by karlia Ashlyn
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A Brown Study
LET them sing of their primrose and cowslip,
Their daffodil-gold-coloured hair,
Their bluebells, blue eyes, and white violets,
All the pale dreamy things they find fair;
Give me stir of brown leaves in the sunshine,
The whir of brown wings through the wheat,
The rush of brown hares through the clover,
And the light in brown eyes of my sweet!
Gold hair? Well, I never could love it,
Yet gold, I suppose, has its worth;
The head that I love is as dusky
As the breast of our mother, the earth;
With a gleam like the shine of wet seaweed,
Round pools that the tide has left clear,
And warm like the breast of a linnet,
And as brown, is the hair of my dear.
From the edge of the cliff we look downwards
On the shore, and the bay, and the town,
And brown is the short turf we lean on,
The fishing-boats' sails are all brown:
The sky may be blue--that's the background,--
But the picture itself, to be fair,
However it's shaded and varied,
Should be brown as the dress that you wear.
A lark bursts to sudden sweet singing--
That tuft of brown grass is his home--
And now, a brown speck, he is rising
Against the clear windy sky-dome;
And he sings--how I know? Love instructs me
To know all his notes, what they mean--
That it isn't the colour I care for,
But yourself, oh, my gipsy, my queen!
Ah! the lark knows my heart--I his language;
It's my heart he sings out to the skies;
It is you that I love, and what matter
The colour of hair or of eyes?
No doubt I should love you as dearly
Were your hair like an apricot's down,
And your eyes like the grey of the morning;
But I'm glad, all the same, that they're brown.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Yellow Guitar
It’s nothing but me now and these strings
There’s nothing holding me in between
I bought this yellow guitar
And now its stole my heart
There’s nothing but your voice echoing in my head
And nothing to complain to
Yeah I bought this yellow guitar
To sing to you
Cause I got all these words circling my mind
Got to many nights I stayed awake to cry
There’s nothing but these strings now to prove who we are
Im left holding this yellow guitar
Cupids arrow has struck me hard
Surprised how much I am in love
With this yellow guitar
poem by Christy Harris
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