The Colours.
She ponders, by the window,
the mellow-honey seraphic child
the irreproachable child
the intangible princess child
amongst the colours
engulfing her whimsically
in a paintwork
of jejune rainbows.
Beguiled, you stumble
into her air of intrigue whereupon
you find that behind those
sugar-spun curls and
fairy peach complexion,
she has no eyes.
Blindness! An intangible web
of colours; where longing
meets beauty. She may be blind
but she is not ignorant.
And she touches, inquiringly,
the colours; Orange, subtle sunshine,
scratching, longingly, at the surface of
her blank white paper.
Pink, candyflossicecream
dripdrip dripping-
Pink, onto a neon-coloured world.
She silently uncovers
dark green moss, over
a solid black wall.
Black, stepping out so boldly,
so prominently, but hardly
ever noticed: is she too different
from white?
There she sits, daintily
by the window smudged
with noisy fingerprints,
the mellow-honey seraphic child
the irreproachable child
the intangible princess child
amongst the colours
she cannot see.
poem by Ballerina With Fins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Innocent Child
In the eyes of an innocent child, you see all, you know all.
In the eyes of an innocent child, you know why the sky is blue and the
leaves fall.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is no peace and there is no
war.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is only peaceful co-existance.
In the eyes of an innocent child, There is only here and now and
nothing in the distance.
In the eyes of an innocent child, there are the colours of the rainbow,
black and white.
In the eyes of an innocent child, Grey areas are not right.
We look at things in grey, black and white, but not like a rainbow.
Some say we even look through rose coloured glasses.
It would be nice if we could look at the world through the eyes of an
innocent child.
poem by Mahfooz Ali
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
(Freedom poems) Fairy child
Fairy child
You child of a god
Fairy child
You have given
up your freedom
Fairy
Fairy child
And now you roam
our world free
Fairy child
because
you know no borders
and your education
Ain't enough fairy child
So you cross borders
to disrespect international
Treaties
You're wanted by INTERPOL
(Can you spell that out loud?)
and the host of
The international agencies
you fairy child
You will know forwards
Fairy child
That the world serves
the interests of one
Super state
When the sanctions
begin to bite fairy child
You will cry like your
Fairy mama fairy
Because here there's
the scarcity
of the sanctions busters
Fairy child
You better go away fairy child
And find yourself
A love mate in Tokyo
Fairy child
'Cause in Tel Aviv
They hunt down the black
infiltrators
Yes they do fairy child
'cause they fear the black brothers
'cause they and the Israelis
Share the same black ancestor fairy child
You better run my brother
And fall in love and marry yourself
off to a Ethiop woman
To get a alien citizenship fairy child
'Cause as stateless as you are now
You're a sitting duck
For INTERPOL and Scotland Yard
Fairy child
Say nothing in Guantanamo Bay
Fairy child
When they come to interrogate
you fairy child
Fairy child fairy child
You child of a god
I warned you my brother
The laws of the brother Humanity
are harsh my man
Now you're sitting there and
all your life you've been
Apolitical fairy child
Now you're sitting with the politicals
Waiting for the interrogator
To interrogate you
For the politics of power
You know the science of which not
It's cold on the Cuban island prison
Fairy child
You chew on your blues
And you even miss the gilded
gates of the flames of hell
Fairy child
Fairy child...
Naive!
poem by Ngaka Motaung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Child Of Babylon
(coverdale/marsden)
When I heard the sound of thunder
On the day that I was born,
I was blinded by the lighting
An baptised in the storm
My father started crying
When he saw what he had done,
But, my mother started praying
Have mercy on my son,
He is a child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
When Ive fooled around so many times
When Ive known it aint been right,
But, I paint it all in colours
When it really should be black and white
I sail my ship through muddy waters,
Try to open every door,
When I saw the seven wonders
It left me wanting more
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
On my day of judgement
I know how it will be,
Im prepared to meet my maker
With no hope for charity
Ill stand alone and pay the price
For everything Ive done,
cos there aint guardian angel
For a child of babylon
I am a child,
A child of babylon
I am a child of babylon,
Lord have mercy on a wayward son
Nowhere to hide, got no place to run
I am a child,
A child of babylon
Child of babylon
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Old Child
Child. Old child,
No longer wild;
No longer speaking,
No longer beguiled;
I have become
A quiet old child.
Child. Old child,
No longer cold;
Never an old man,
Always too old;
I have become
An old child tenfold.
Child. Old child,
Forever a child;
Always rethinking,
Always exiled.
I should become
A happy old child.
Child. Old child.
Always soft-spoken;
No longer breaking,
Still being broken;
I have become
An old child, unspoken.
Child. Old child,
No longer bold;
By thinking, rethinking
Of stories untold,
All through my childhood,
I've become... old.
poem by Mihai Cosmescu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sweet Pea
Oh my sweet pea,
The white child doesn't know the black child;
Oh my sweet pea,
The white child doesn't know the coloured child;
But the black child is aware of the coloured and the white!
And this poem is to bring forth the message of love to all amnkind,
Because we were all made by the Creator!
Just as it is written,
So is the seed of the Medes;
And like Sodom and Gomorrah!
For i saw people queuing for pig meat and,
Like the sins of our past.
Of the people and by the people,
Read your Bible and pray everyday;
For many are still not ready to learn.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Honey Child
Well, the first time that I met you, You were only seventeen,
But I had to put you down, 'Cause I didn't know where you'd been.
You had a long black dress, Your hair in a mess,
You didn't seem to have no class, But the look on
your face was no disgrace, I knew I had to move real fast.
Honey Child, Don't you know you drive me wild! Oh, Honey Child,
Don't you know you drive me wild! Just about to lose my mind.
Well the second time that I met you, You were just turned
twenty-one, An' all your talk about love, Love was gone, long gone.
Oh, Honey Child, Don't you know you drive me wild! Honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild! Just about to lose my mind.
Yeah, yeah.
Oh, honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild, mm.
Honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild. Honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Oh, yeah, honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Oh, oh, honey child,
Don't you know you drive me wild. Honey child, now,
Don't you know you drive me wild, Yeah, yeah.
Honey, honey, honey, honey child, Don't you know you drive me wild.
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Where Is The Child?
love is blind,
life is wild,
death is wide,
where is the child?
hatred everywhere,
badness fills the air,
life is so unfair,
where is the child?
no one is funny,
bees make no honey,
everyone is running after money,
where is the child?
hearing no good voice,
there is much noise,
by a freaky gang of boys,
where is the child?
no one is having a good dream,
everyone wants to scream,
there is no more white cream,
where is the child?
purity is gone,
children have no fun,
badness is now in everyone,
where is the child?
there is no more respectable art,
no real love in any heart,
sadness in every part,
where is the child?
where is the child?
where is the child?
poem by Sarah Abu Zeid
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Colours
Colours are just colours
One might suppose
Rage is red…
But then again…
so is a rose
So colours are more
Than they seem, don’t’ you think
For boys it’s usually blue
For little girls always pink
Yep, colours are colours
Perhaps that’s all they should be
Just something to look at
Only something to see
But colours have emotion
At least they do to me
Perhaps I just don’t see hues
In the same way
that you see
Because blue to me
Is more than just a hue
It’s the sky, it’s berries,
Oceans … and sadness too
Green is envy, grass and dinero
Purple is royalty, plums and passion
Yellow is cowardice, butter and tallow
Colours are … whatever you wish to fashion
Perhaps I see colours differently than you
Perhaps exactly the same way… I hope
But my advice to you, whatever you do
Is … don’t get me started on taupe! !
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Faex Populi
Around me is a mass of morphing colours;
pink black white pink black
Around me is a dull shopping paradise; a graveyard,
subfusc, dead people with dead minds
scrambling around aimlessly,
wandering in that straight line,
to nothingness, somber.
They are all alive; but it is far too late.
They are owned by these terriying neon colours,
and their crude surroundings. But then again, they still say, let's go shopping. Because it's what they do best.
Like a shop window, entrancing, untoucable.
Wondrous, splendiful.
Dull, dying, dead.
I wear my old Tuesday socks on Friday; and
they say I'm going crazy.
poem by Ballerina With Fins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wind Child Love Embracing
wind child still
I see your joy laughing eyes
wind child still
I see your warm eyes laughing
wind child still
I see your eyes green healing
wind child still
I see an emerald sea your eyes
wind child still
I see your soft dove brown eyes
wind child still
I see your fawn eyes new life running
wind child still
I see your dark black eyes blessing
wind child still
I see your soul dark passion eyes
wind child still
I see your love welcoming eyes
wind child still
I see your smile universe embracing
wind child still
I see your love of God’s creativity spreading
wind child still
I see stars in heaven smile in your soul eyes
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Colours Of Life
Sunny morning, golden noon, rose pink twilight, silver moon.
Grey black cloud, creamy sea, lightning bright, green brown tree.
Yellow with age, white with fright, red with rage, black as night.
Green with envy, rainbow hue, in the pink, sky of blue.
Countless colours running rife. These are the colours of our life.
poem by Rod Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Zebra Child
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My father skin is fare like a pinkish cloud.
My mother skin is dark like coco.
My skin is both swirled into a light caramel color.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
My eyes are hazel with a hint of blue.
My hair is kinky yet manageable.
While I have African hips
I also have European lips.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
I relish my difference
Although some times
I envy others similarity.
But I am what I am.
I’m not black
I’m not white
I’m a Zebra Child.
racism- A Game Of Colour
I give you a set of colours
Red, blue, green, yellow, pink, brown, black and white
And you would say red and blue are complement complimentary,
and that contemporary brown and green are supplementary
And white is elementary,
and that black is voluntary
I would say its the adjective of racism
For racism is a game of colour
For racism is trauma of complexion
You argue black is obscurity,
white is dazzling and brown poverty
with yellow as footling
But i withstand your considerations
I would say they are the adjectives of racism
For racism is a game of colour
For racism is shame humanitarian
Tired! wanna defend?
Well, i give you some more parameters:
Demography, shape, education, economy, gender
You would say demography is fortune
And shape is good trait
That economy is brained brawn power
While gender supporting the theory of magnetism-'Unlike poles attract each other'
I would say they suffice for adjectives of racism
For racism is a game of colour
For racism is as despicable as a heinous odour
Hither and thither,
helter skeleter,
far and near,
thereover, hereunder,
I find, you see, we have colours blaming each other
Some colours say they are souvenirs
And that rest are samaritans
Some colours say they are absolute riches
And that others are dumped ditches
Hypothetically colours have some limitations
Like the dimensions in a piece of paper
And once it is replete
There is no need for scribbling black and blue
Like in reality some job agencies tag some skilled candidates to be obsolete-
Only coz' they don't match a colour of their tape-the bureaucratic red tape,
Or, they do not have blue references for a lush green outcome as future
Here ironically, one should really ponder
The world around us would have been a sheer monotony
Bereft of all hues considered as under
Casts, creeds, race and religion,
Culture, scripture, pictorial mother nature are all the very similar
They are phonetics like alpha and a we caricature
That we are all the same red when scratched or when required:
They are all in the same plane of earth
Only dimensions and appearences differ
So that human life becomes a snapper
Do colours really speak?
I asked the whole world
And you know?
People quote as white monarchs;
People smote as brown oligarchs;
People wrote as black democrats;
People vote as yellow technocrats;
And colours all making them beautiful
Like the significant black nightfall,
white day,
yellow sunshine,
green leaves to blossom and enshrine
Same as the burlesque bounties of bespoke bespectacled nature
who is incomparably incredible with all her attributes
I sat sniggering and contemplative
As racism walks in tandem with all virtues vying them
It stings like a ratatouille
where people, gets, getting, shall be getting stewed hours forever
As racism seems like a schizoid daydream
As racism is - a pharmakone.
I am a thinking victim of such maelstrom
Searching for ancillary stores in its claustrophobic confines;
Like a fly staggering in a spider spun web
I then scooped at this child,
A child drawing on a white paper the colour of imaginations
I derived a cryogenic satisfaction
For this child is not superseded,
and it deracinated the hedonistic outlaws,
the picture of nature- a reality
with its barbling waterways, the labyrinths having rich impacto of sherbert colours and, and
having a honeymoon,
And no sign of bacchanal pride,
no symbol of banal pejorative prejudice,
I derived that colours are always distinguishing
And not meant for any pugnacious ensuing
As it is horribly prescient,
more than the floundering earth beneath melting ice-caps.
Black, White Or Coloured
I was born black and you were born white or coloured;
But we all came from the lovely hands of the Creator,
Because the Creator loves colours!
And like the muse of the rainbow seen across the sky.
I am always black! !
In the sun, in sickness and even when i die;
But the Creator made it so,
And i will be buried as a black when i die.
You were born white or coloured,
But you came out of the womb with the colour of the rose!
And you became whit eor coloured in the process of your growth,
But you are always blue when it is cold.
You do turn green when there is fear in your eyes!
But yellow when you are sick;
And like the various colours of the rainbow as seen across the sky,
But you will be grey when you die.
This shows that i am always black from birth to death,
But you do have various colours to satisfy your muse like the rainbow;
So you are more coloured than i am in this life,
And we all know the reality of these facts on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Colourful Family Tree
This world is made up of colours and,
I am glad to come up from a colourful family tree.
There are many colours around us and,
You can enjoy the colours in your bathrooms too;
For nature is full of colours!
Like the human beings,
I an brown in colour and my mother is a black woman from Africa.
I have many relatives all over the continets and,
My father is a white man from the U.S.A.
Four of my aunties are from Australia, Japan, Brazil and the U.K.;
Four of my uncles are from India, Mexico, Canada and Denmark;
So i grew up among many colours of this world.
A colourful family tree is what i came from and,
I am very glad to meet various colours in my life time;
For a long the lines of my growth,
I have come to love all the colours around me.
Colours are very beautiful and we need them around us,
They are in your offices and your houses too;
Yes, we need all the colours to beautify things around us.
Black is beautiful and white is beautiful too,
For we were made from the Creator with colours!
And i am very glad to be part of this family tree.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sicilian Lullaby
Hush, little one, and fold your hands;
The sun hath set, the moon is high;
The sea is singing to the sands,
And wakeful posies are beguiled
By many a fairy lullaby:
Hush, little child, my little child!
Dream, little one, and in your dreams
Float upward from this lowly place,--
Float out on mellow, misty streams
To lands where bideth Mary mild,
And let her kiss thy little face,
You little child, my little child!
Sleep, little one, and take thy rest,
With angels bending over thee,--
Sleep sweetly on that Father's breast
Whom our dear Christ hath reconciled;
But stay not there,--come back to me,
O little child, my little child!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Black And Red
Black and Red
The colours of dead
Black and Red
The colours of my bed.
Black and Red
swirling in my head
Black and Red
Killing my brov Ted.
BLACK AND RED
Black and Red
Colours that spread
Black and Red
The patterned thread.
Black and Red
The voices said
Black and Red
I Iove eating bread
Black and Red
My favourite colours till the end.
poem by Carniz Fatema
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Colours
Why do people use colours?
To define were you belong
Gang colours are so mundane
Why not use them as intended
Red for the rose
She holds so dear
And so close to her heart
Blue for the hope
That only lies
With in your soul
Green for the beauty
In Mother Natures
Brush in life
Black for the beauty
Of night laden sky's
We view from our heart
Yellow so bold and bright
That dances on fields that
Sends golden rays of sunshine
In our lives
Brown for the cookies
Mother makes
For us to gorge with glee
Grey that hides the shadow
That we often try to hide
Purple for the beauty
That hides the colour pink
All these woven together
A statement from god above
In rainbows of colours
That touches our heart and souls
Isn't that what they are intended for?
To be held in our dreams
Now and evermore
poem by Kaila George
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Broken child
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who has seen more than his young eyes should.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who would run away from it all if he could.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who has been ravished by the likes of you and I.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child with to much pride to cry.
I see the face off a broken child.
a child who fights off anyone who cares.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who wishes his mother was there.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who wont let his hardships keep him down.
I see the face of a broken child.
A child who refuses to give up and reveal a frown.
poem by Joshua Reid
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Who Will Cry?
Who will cry for the little child who goes for days without food?
Who will cry for the little child who parents beat them?
Who will cry for the little child who is mistreated for being different?
Who will cry for the little child who goes unloved?
Who will cry for the little child whose stomach is swelled up?
Who will cry for the little child who doesn't have clothes to wear?
Who will cry for the little child who is shunned for not being popular?
Who will cry for the little child who is molested every night?
Who will cry for the little child who's parents are not around?
Who will cry for the little child who has to take care of his self?
Who will cry?
Will you cry?
Cause I have.
poem by Natasha Ligons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!