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The Colors of the World

by Zaragoza42 
 

The world has land and sky

The ground green and the water blue

The sky, light as the clouds in it

With the reds and oranges of the deserts

The blues and greens of forests

The sun rises and sets with beautiful hues

The colors of the world for all

The white snow of the cold north with

Light glinting off the flakes that fall

The worlds a prism that splits the light

Across the land and sky with red

Orange, yellow and green

Blues, indigos and violets

The colors in between and blurred by

The morning mist, the fog before a storm

The storms of dust and sand

All the colors for the world to see



Into The Past
by Rlm



From my open window, the sounds-

raindrops bouncing off the wooden shutters,

murmurings of passersby beneath my window

mix with the noises and smells from the shops below,

drifting through the winding caverns,

of the narrow cobblestone streets.

 

The accumulated raindrops flow

like a raging torrent through the rooftop gutters.

Two scraping umbrellas

passing in the same space

along the narrow walkway.

 

Laying in my bed, absorbing-

the piercing cries of babies,

church bells chiming out the hour,

barking dogs, screeching cats,

the loud, very loud, lyrical Italian,

at times romantic and enticing,

spoken in tones of conversation, yet

to the untrained ear,

sounding like cries of desperation

in the final throes of life.

 

The smells, oh god the smells-

the breezes off the Ligurian Sea carrying

onion and garlic sauteing,

sausages, pork, and lamb gently frying,

the open air fish market around the corner,

all hanging in the air,

creating an invisible cloud

shrouding 2500 years of existence.

 

Monterosso, isolated when the rains come,

the seas roughen, the ferrys rock at their dock,

the cobblestone glazed over as if iced.

Trains halt the exodus to Milan, Florence, Venice-

trapped in paradise-

dampened by the intermittent rains,

overpowered by the quaintness and charm

of a simpler life.


Embracing Autumn
by Linda Marshall 
 


our youth flees as the seasons do;

as the leaves fall from the trees

so too we age

 

shards of summer remain,

but the mushy jetsam

is trodden underfoot, unnoticed

 

all the rich plumage of summer

abandoned on the sodden earth,

a child’s now unwanted toy

 

the branches of trees

bend in the inclement wind

and try to resist his mating cries

 

they wait in their turn

for the coming time when the wind will shake

like a cocktail from the sky the first snowflake

 

the rocks, the little stream

flowing through the wood

will be decked out in frost and crystals of ice

 

summer is gaudy, a fashion parade

of garish colour;

autumn is sober, burnishing life in russet and brown

 

when the light around fades

the sky sheds its colour,

trees become shadows in the wood

 

it is not yet the barrenness of winter

but the mellow ripeness of too rich fruit

that autumn brings

 

so we embrace you, autumn;

promise that though we too perish and change

we will return, endure





snow
Denzel Washington...
Deeply Moving Speech



Photography Prints



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Robert Frost Poems
Maya Angelou Poems

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