Poems: Colorsback to poem listing
Of all the colors that I see
white jumps right out so brilliantly.
It's simple yet the most complex
with all the colors inter-meshed.
The next color that speaks to me
is dark blue, copacetically.
It appeals to me because it brings
out emotions of far past things.
And next I notice, over there
is the green of leaves ever so fair.
They speak to me like no one can
because to them I'm just a man.
The next hue I spot so effortlessly
is a bright red, so angry.
It charges the bull, it warns with its fashion.
A color so fierce, it invokes mighty passion.
Black is the only color I don't understand.
The absence of light, mix of all paints on hand.
It enlightens some, depresses most,
the color that none would like of their roast.
Purple and orange are the only two colors
whose words do not rhyme with any others.
Their colors are pretty I do not deny
but not quite my favorites, I'm not sure why.
The deep dark feeling that grey helps uncover
during melting snow is unlike any other.
This color is nearly as bad as Sir Black
to those whose self-esteem is under attack.
Yellow is gross, my least favorite shade.
It's the color of puke, doesn't make the grade.
Bright yellow is even worse, it blinds my sight.
Though I can't complain when it guides my night.
And last but not least is a mix of all above.
The color of fur, boots, skin, leather gloves.
The color of wood and marshmallows burnt down.
The color, of course, is none other than brown.
And so here I do list with the greatest of ease,
all the colors on the palette of your local 'artest.'
If your opinions differ, write a poem for me,
because, no doubt, not all will agree.
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