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Bright Grey

She says that he's pouring fuel on the fire
He turns around and calls her a liar
She says i'm trying to reach a higher plan
Someone around here's sane
God only knows if it's you or me
He says that she's jealous just like a female
She says i caught you i went through your e-mail
He says it getting so hard jsut to be male now
Somebody tell me how
God only knows why we're enemines
Hey - why doesn't someone say
This dull blakc and white should fall away
Please - tell me it's not jus tme
Can't wait until we're all birght grey
Bright grey
she packs her baggage and goes home to mother
he says go on 'cos he's sick of being smothered
how did it get this way?
god only knows how it used to be
Hey - why doesn't someone say
This dull blakc and white should fall away
Please - tell me it's not jus tme
Can't wait until we're all birght grey
Bright grey

song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grey, Grey Sky

Someday I will ride the great bird
Into the sky, into the grey
And will take a bright secret of mine
Into the grey, grey sky.

And the light will come, piercing my eyes
Out of the sky, out of the grey
Come blinding and searing these eyes
Out of the grey, grey sky.

And I will find comfort in this
In the wide sky, in the wide grey
In the painful dark brightness of light
Light of the grey, grey sky.

My secret will fly away home
Into the sky, into the grey
And the great bird will follow it there
Into the grey, grey sky.

And I will be riding that bird
Bird of the sky, bird of the grey
And I will come home once again
Home to the grey, grey sky.

But for now I am weighted, earthbound
One of the mud, one of the ground
And I write this sad song to sad sound
Girl of the pavement sighs.

poem by Grace Hutton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Grey World

Grey nights in the wind,
And the grey-faced dead.
Grey hairs in my head,
And grey eyes in my mind.

Grey mists in the morn,
And grey waves that rave,
Grey mould on my grave,
And grey eyes forlorn.

Grey clouds in the sky,
And the grey world asleep,
Grey ghosts that sigh,
And grey eyes that weep.

poem by Leon Gellert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shades of Grey

Black is the color of the night
Grey is the shadow of you I sight
White is the shirt you wear
Black is your suit I declare

White is the wall you lean against
Grey is our path I sensed
Black is the memory I lost
Black is the road we never crossed

Grey is the prospect of the day
Grey is the taxi driving away
Black is the truth to never find you
Black is everything I can't undo

Black is my room without light
White is my color of hope in spite
Grey is the circle around my heart
Black is the truth like a work of art

© 2011

poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grey Skies

Grey skies

Skies are grey, rain all day, perfect time to sit and pray.
It matters not, if you’re at home or in your car.
Receiving CHRIST is the best thing by far.
Open your heart and pray to him
For all your needs and desires
He will put out that flaming fire.
And when you feel that your problems
Are as grey as the skies, and the tears fall from your eyes
And it seems that life is not worth living
And you are so tired of giving.
Look through the grey rainy day
Inside you a small voice will say
“ I am here to lead the way
For tomorrow is another day
And when you see the sky a beautiful blue
It’s because I created it for you.
So don’t give up, don’t despair
For when you

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Descent Into Grey (Life Poem)

It could be the end of the world as you know it,
When change is a crisis that decolours your life,
If you choose in your blindness to only see grey.

You know nothing has changed, and it's just
Your perspective that turns day into night, but
It could be the end of the world as you know it.

It's hard to see good when the news is so bad,
With everyone nervous about what is to come,
If you choose in your blindness to only see grey.

Go back to a place when colours were bright,
Unless you can see that things are not really grey,
It could be the end of the world as you know it.

Try recolouring your life with Instagram intensity,
And switch back and forth to see it's your choice,
If you choose in your blindness to only see grey.

Repainting your world with your Instagram mind,
A perspective that is more balanced than true, or
It could be the end of the world as you know it,
If you choose in your blindness to only see grey.

poem by Ian Beckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ten Grey hairs and a silver one

I discovered my first grey hair
when I was Seventeen years old
It had to do with broken up my first relationship

I discovered my second grey hair
when I was Twenty years old
It had to do with the quarrels at home

I discovered my third grey hair
when I was Twenty-one years old
It had to do with searching for work

I discovered my fourth grey hair
when I was Twenty-three years old
It had to do with loosing my job

I discovered my fifth grey hair
when I was Twenty-five years old
It had to do with giving up my unborn child

I discovered my sixth grey hair
When I was Twenty-eight years old
It had to do with opening my pub

I discovered my seventh grey hair
When I was thirty years old
It had to do with giving birth to my daughter

I discovered my eight grey hair
When I was thirty –two years old
It had to do with the first day at the kinder garden school

I discovered my ninth grey hair
When I was thirty-four years old
It had to do with to find out that some thing was missing

I discovered my tenth grey hair
When I was thirty-five years old
It had to do with the fights between my sisters and mum

My one Silver hair I discovered lately
Has to do with you
Because I miss you so hard …

poem by Pascale Ost
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grey Lady Of The Sea

(lebon)
Youve whispered out loud
But your breeze doesnt bend
Were lying in the palm of your hand
No land we see, no place to be
The salt of your tears, adds stain to our hearts
Theres no long years can tear us apart
Our futures entwined with your past
Because when we lie awake
Well be thinking of you
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Bravado is all but gone
And patience is down
You scared us and youve turned us around
But you wont let us drown
Because when we lie asleep
Well be dreaming of you
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
So answer us when we call
And say if you think were old
When life is so short we can stay long
But youll never be alone
Because one day well return
Well be waiting for you
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home
Blow, grey lady blow your ships back home

song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grey Wolves Grey

The Russian march is soft and slow,
Through dust and heat, or slush and snow,
When the Russian skies hang grey and low
To the frontiers far where the Russians go;
And they march to-night and they march to-day
Like the grey wolves grey, like the grey wolves grey.
Nor song nor sound their track reveals,
Save the ceaseless “clock” of the waggon wheels;
But a rift in the mist shows a glint of sun
On the long, dark shape of a toiling gun;
And they strain by night and they drag by day
To a distant goal, like the grey wolves grey.

As the horses toil at the ends of trains,
And the ends of roads on the Blacksoil Plains.
And Ivan digs in the frozen clay,
And he rolls the logs a bed to lay
For a gun that’s five hundred miles away,
But as sure to come as the grey wolves grey.

He is marching on with a purpose grand,
For brother Slav in another land;
Whose tongue, perchance, he cannot understand.—
But he knows the cry from the far-away,
And he smells the blood like the grey wolves grey.

And Ivan’s wife in her den at home,
While hunger looms and his lean wolves come—
With her grey-black bread like the Darling mud,
And her tea-bricks bound with the bullock’s blood—
She shields her cubs by night and day
Like the crouching sluts of the grey wolves grey.

And I march with Ivan where’er he be,
With the foreign blood that is strong in me,
And the love and the hate that is fantasy,
Like the ghosts of a father’s memory.
With the blood that is strange to us to-day
As the strange wild blood of the grey wolves grey.
Grey wolves,
Grey wolves—
The strange wild blood of the grey wolves grey.

poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grey

Grey road stretched through grey rain.
Grey rain fell though grey mist.
Grey mist enveloped all,
all the eye could see,
all the land,
all the sky
and me.
Grey covered all,
all the way down to the sea.

Glimpsed through grey the swell of the ocean,
riding the waves a wind surfer surfing,
chopping, fighting the crests with swift motion
skirting the spray, sail unfurling.
Stopping, I stared at that sight in the mist,
oh how he came dancing over the sea,
right through the rain a state of sheer bliss,
the wondrous frolic rippling throughout me
making me tingle right down deep inside.
That misty image ripped all grey apart
a glorious vision of freedom untied,
returning tremendous joy to my heart
filling me up, bringing tears to my eyes,
emerging from grey a great love of life.

poem by Diana Rosser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Black and White (Stream XV)

I have black thoughts,
It is a black day,
A day when the black dog
Coal black, hovers at my shoulder.
I shoulder the burden.
Deep in the black hole.
Black as a black hearted night.
Negative.
Stark.
Black and white.
I do not call my good days white days.
Why?
Or have white thoughts
On a white day,
When the white dog
Pure white sits upon my shoulder.
Which is unburdened.
Out of the pit,
Luxuriating in the bright white light;
White as the purest snow.
Positive.
For we live in a too white world
Maybe we should have grey days,
And light days.
Why should Black be negative and White poitive?

For me then, today is a grey day.
Maybe tomorrow will be a light day.

Copyright P H Brookes 2012

poem by Paul Brookes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grey Grey Morning

GREY GREY MORNING

Grey grey morning
Purim again
Where to begin?
A poem is not just any words-
A poem needs a music of its own-
A beauty-
Lines that are memorable.
A poet cannot just be
What one happens to see and feel
At the moment
A poem must have lines which others will remember.
Grey grey morning
Purim again
Another poem about a poem
Is there one line here worth remembering?

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There isn’t always meaning

There isn’t always meaning
in everything that happens
and sometimes things
are rather grey than black and white,

but the grey is something
that bothers me at times
when I try to find answers
in what happens with my life.

I am sick of standing
on the sideline
as the game of life is always continuing
and sometimes I also want to plant
the ball between the poles.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blue Turns To Grey

Well, now that she is gone.
You wont feel bad for long.
For maybe just an hour or just a
Moment of the day.
Then blue turns to grey.
And try as you may.
You just dont feel good.
And you dont feel alright.
And you know that
You must find her
Find her, find her.
You think youll have a ball.
And you wont hurt at all.
Youll find another girl
Or maybe more to pass the time away
Then blue turns grey
And try as you may.
You just dont feel good.
And you dont feel al-right
And you know that you must find her
Find her, find her.
Shes not home when you call
So you then go to all
All the places where she likes to be
But she has gone away
Then blue turns to grey
And try as you may
You just dont feel good
And you dont feel al-right
And you know that you must find her
Find her
Find her
Blue turns to grey
Blue turns to grey

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bubble Of Grey

Living in a glass bubble of grey,
you can’t see clearly,
even in the day.
For everything is distorted
with a dark blue hue,
dingy grey, dingy blue.
Now if you strip away all
the grey,
shine it up to the
bright colors of May,
who knows what fun
you will have today?
So what do you say?
Written by Christina Sunrise on March 18,2011

poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rainbow

I live at one of those Grey Clouds
Not really know that I am lifeless

I heard people talking about rainbow,
They’d met each other, always in a happy occasion
I wish I met the rainbow myself
Then perhaps I would know,
What the people say is not true
That there is no thing such rainbow,
That could make people’s eyes glittering
In Blue color of the sky
In Green color of the valley
In Red color of the blood
In Yellow color of the sun

I am belongs to the Grey Clouds
I Love Grey, as it is all the color I have in life

Then one day, at the ticking time of my ordinary Grey-day
I see something really bright,
With the scent of a precious flower I’d lost in the mist
For a moment I’m overwhelmed
Then I took a step further…
Away from something so beautiful, that wasn’t Grey
But the figure reveal and I stranded there
I Never learn that there are many color one’s could posses

Day goes by,
The Grey Cloud is the latest place I’d like to be
It was the rainbow…
Holding me and warm me
With a lot of bunch of dream in my empty mind
Dream I never knew
Dream I never dare to explore
The forbidden dream for my Grey outfit
I’m content with joys,
The first time I ever feel grand to face my life
My heart reflecting the color of rainbow
Blue for the peace soul
Green for the new beginning
Red for the faith
Yellow for a bright hope

Not very long
The thunder strikes,
The lightning burned my rainbow
All was Grey again
The rainbow gone away
Prefer to have a quite-smooth journey with all its color

While the thunder sent me here
Back to the Grey Clouds

poem by Niken Kusuma Wardani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Wonderful Painting

A Wonderful Painting
by Alex Lewis

I remember before my mother's art
When I was but an egg.
The painting took color in every part.
One shade is but a leg.

The lavish blues spread across the page like a waving, smiling sea.
The canvas was plain and bare, except the blues, happily set free.
With the blue, I went to play as childish as I may.
The one clam and I sat with ourselves on the whaling bay.

This is me, like a leaf, on my first day at green.
So, all the others spoke; I found that none were mean.
There were dark greens, light ones, and one stuck in the middle.
After math, my friend and I learnt to play the fiddle.

My friend and I continued to play our little tune.
We soon fell in pink to which neither one was immune.
Our pink grew and grew as each day had passed.
Green had ended blue; only pink would last.

We took our pink and ran right through to angry, waiting brown.
Brown was angry for making him wait with a black-white frown.
We explained that blue made us wait for an azure set of eighteen.
He forgave us. My friend, brown, pink, and I live for only one team.

We decided to get the canvas and add a dash of white.
Pink was overwhelmed as white carried on through the love-filled night.
We can add white to family before blue decides to return again.
Red will also join the painting party-Another eighteen before men!

It took a lot of work to make my dear reds come.
I enjoyed the work, but my reds were way more fun.
One red stayed with us, but the other ran away rather young.
Maybe brown kidnapped him early, but strange words travel by tongue.

We turned grey as brown dimmed down, but we swear we've never seen pink more bright!
Brown had completely gone, like both of our reds, but pink still made things light.
I then feared and cried as my pink's grey burned out like a setting sun.
My grey began to fade too, but I was ready. My life was done.

My mother handed me the canvas and the frame,
But I had to add all the colors (none I showed for shame) .
Blue, green, pink, brown, red, grey-my portrait is made of those colors,
But I am just one piece in a gallery, and all of you are the others.

poem by Alex Lewis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grey Blue Eyes

I feel for the light
Your glory was lost that night
And no mind can't get me right
And now I'm praying that you'll find me out
Stone, stone has pulled me down
But my faith has got me bound to your grey blue eyes
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Don't forget my broken heart
You remember it from the start
You made it and it's all a part
Of your grey blue eyes
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
You're gone and I know I'm dead
I've lost my way
Can't find me in your grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes
Grey blue eyes

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crossing The Road of The Uneasy

'When you sleep and know it not
The grey dog creeps among you.
In your sleep, you twist, your soul hurts you.
The grey dog is chewing your entrails.
Then call on Jesus
The grey dog caught me at the cross-roads
As I went down the road of sleep
And crossed the road of the uneasy.
The grey dog leapt at my entrails.
Jesus, call him off.
Lo! the Great One answers. Track him down!
Kill him in his unclean house.
Down the road of the uneasy
You track the grey dog home
To his house in the heart of a traitor,
A thief, a murderer of dreams.
And you kill him there with one stroke,
Crying: Jesus, is this well done?
That your sleep be not as a cemetery
Where dogs creep unclean.'

poem by Tony Chabaputa
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The Conscientious Deacon

(A song to be syncopated as you please)

Black cats, grey cats, green cats miau—
Chasing the deacon who stole the cow.

He runs and tumbles, he tumbles and runs.
He sees big white men with dogs and guns.

He falls down flat. He turns to stare—
No cats, no dogs, and no men there.

But black shadows, grey shadows, green shadows come.
The wind says, 'Miau!' and the rain says, 'Hum!'

He goes straight home. He dreams all night.
He howls. He puts his wife in a fright.

Black devils, grey devils, green devils shine—
Yes, by Sambo,
And the fire looks fine!
Cat devils, dog devils, cow devils grin—
Yes, by Sambo,
And the fire rolls in.

And so, next day, to avoid the worst—
He takes that cow
Where he found her first.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
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