Paint Chip Poetry
Day 4 of the January Open Write. Welcome! If you are new to the Open Write, please check out our information page for some background and support in the process — or, just begin by following the inspiration and process offered by today’s writing host.
Our Host
Kim Johnson lives in Williamson, Georgia, where she serves as District Literacy Specialist for Pike County Schools. She enjoys traveling and spending time with her schnoodle trio.
Inspiration
A stroll through a paint section can be just the right inspiration for poetry! You can purchase a set of Paint Chip Poetry cards from Amazon here, but you can also find your own colorful words for free at paint stores or on websites such as Sherwin Williams here: https://www.sherwin-williams.com or Glidden here: https://www.glidden.com by clicking on the color chips to discover vibrant color words (deep onyx, copper pot, heartfelt, hot cocoa, dirt road…)
Process
Gather some paint chip words from a website or a paint department and have fun arranging the descriptive colors into lines of poetry!
Kim’s Poem
Example using colors that I selected from Paint Chip Poetry:
smooth sailing; blank canvas; summer squash; seedling; dirt road; fresh-squeezed, chamomile tea; firefly; waterfall
Spring Walk
smooth sailing days of spring
walking the blank canvas of
the dirt road less traveled
smelling summer squash seedlings
and fresh-squeezed tulips
ambling home for a front porch swing
cup of chamomile tea
steeped in fireflies
and waterfalls
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
This title jumped right into my mind! I wasn’t even sure there would be 50 different colors of gray, or that I could possibly use that many. But there was, and I even had to take some out…! I hope this makes you feel that even a gray day can be beautiful.
Fifty Shades of Grey
“Mirror Mirror on the wall, I’m not ready to get up at all!” I murmur to no one as I awaken from my seemingly brief Winter’s Nap. In the Winter Chill of the Silvery Moonlight coming through the Steel Curtain of the window, I roll towards the edge of the bed.
I shlep my freezing tootsies into my softly lined Pachyderm boots and don my Gray Flannel shirt. Definitely looks like another Sweater Weather day here in the Dark Woods below Mt. Ranier. Soon I’m clutching my Pewter Mug of hot coffee and gazing into the Swirling Smoke spiraling up the fireplace into the Gosling Gray chimney. Stirring beside the Cloudy Slate hearth, my Greyhound gazes at me with affection from his Shadowy eyes. Silver Bells on his collar tinkle as he stretches when I tickle his Whiskers. “Time to quit Playing Possum, Grey,” I lovingly chide him and rub his Burnished Blade hair.
Not Afraid of the Dark we are soon ready to venture outside in the Dusky Dawn, greeted by Ancient Clouds of Arctic Cotton in a Stargazer sky. Grateful the morning doesn’t indicate the advent of Precipitation; we are humbled by a heavenly Hush as we stand on the Flagstone and survey the Elemental beauty and Silver Charm of our Hiker’s Paradise. No City Skylines for us!
We leave the Silent Smoke rising above the Gray Pine cabin silently guarded by Silver Birch soldiers dressed in Tinsel, everything ensconced in Kitten White drifts of snow. Our feet in their winter Artillery crunch over Stepping Stones and thin ice as we trek through the Statue Garden.
We follow the Rocky Road of a trail through a soft mist towards the Ice Bay, briefly glimpsing a twitching Rabbit’s Ear as it bounds away. Further down Grey pounces on a Pigeon Feather, its Pencil Point tip firmly embedded in a snowbank.
In no time at all we find ourselves On the Edge of the Silver Band of the frozen river, its Shining Scales reflecting the gift of a glorious sunrise pushing its way through the forest of Silver Sage trees. I look down at Grey, and in a Shaded Whisper I say, “It’s going to be a magnificent day!”
Genius! I am seeing the reason you chose the shades of gray since his name is Grey! And the way you wove the story with the names of the paint colors is genius! I love this! I hope you will return next month when we write in February. Your writing is creative, energetic, and so much fun!
I really loved this poetry and have not ever used paint chips before! How fun!
Here is my poem-found the words on Glidden for purple colors!
Reign Over Me
Cleopatra’s gown
lit by the black flame
a phantom mist swirls
at her feet
like admiralty
guarding her
in its violet vapor.
“Mauve Madness”
“Dream Dust”
“Love Potion”
“Magic Spell”
All protect her
and
her
reign.
OOh, the phantom mist swirling –
gives an eerie, mysterious feeling like a haunted mansion! I love the color choices. Great imagery with these picks!
Color Trends 2022
Vining ivy wraps a home in a hug. Where a
Candlit beige glow beckons: Come in.
Ancient copper in a kitchen patinas to
Guacamole. Guacamole? In a bedroom? Wait.
That guacamole has shown up several times here in these verses. I agree –
a bedroom? Hmmmmm…..but the candlelit beige could swap rooms or mix and tone it out beautifully! ❤️ Thank you for writing with us.
PAINT CHIP POEM
Philosophically Speaking,
you must go past the Chicago Skyline,
past
the Metalflake
that makes up the Moonscape of the big city,
and head out where the
Plume Grass grows around the Dark River.
Leaving behind the Sizzling Hot Sun’s Rage,
and November Storms that
swallow up Peace of Mind.
There, just beyond Autumn’s Hill,
where Silence is Golden,
you will see the Stairway to Heaven,
leading to the Hidden Cove.
Cliffswallows beckon you
to the cozy Thatched Cottage,
where Morning Dew
glistens upon the Perennial Garden.
Sitting under the Yellow Umbrella,
amidst the Wildwood,
you accept Kingdom’s Keys,
Dreaming of the Day of Simple Serenity
and you realize you are there.
Judi Opager
January 18, 2022
What a beautiful journey! Enjoyed the imagery all the way through, and I’m impressed at the range of colors that fit so well. I never would have guessed stairway to heaven would have been a paint color. LOL! And that closing line is a stunner. It really both illuminates the meaning and adds closure. I love that line and think it would make a great prompt.
Some of these colors make me want to go paint shopping and change out my color
schemes! Thatched cottage sounds quaint and relaxing, like the outskirts of a little English village with an overgrown garden where I could sit in a window with coffee and write the morning away. Oh, how lovely!
What a fun prompt, Kim! I still remember the paint colors we chose for each room of the house, so I decided to give you all a tour of my day (plus one stanza of the school colors!)
Room of harvest gold
Brews the coffee–black and bold
Many stories told
Books, pens, paper, glue,
desks and columbia blue
football field in view
Home, now with family
surrounded by soft chamois
Grateful for us three
In this chair I sink,
Play with words–carefully link
Hugged by hint of pink
“Click” off goes the lamp
head presses to pillow sham
dream of Amsterdam
Rachelle,
Lovely! I remembered a few of the colors I’ve used in my house, but not all. I like how knowing the color names really brings a visual to mind. You have a nice progression, too, from the busy kitchen to your head hitting the pillow.
That’s a fantastic interpretation on this prompt. No way I could remember the names of the paint in our house now, but it would be fun to try to match them up with some paint chips to see what color names I could come up with. Very creative and heartfelt.
How to travel from the charred remains of soot and of ash,
which touches the root and takes hold of the soul.
Destruction, that gristmill greige of dying to live,
which compels me to move forward.
A pine whisper of a young green,
which grows louder the further I wander through time.
Chase the sparkling brook to find that life-giving force,
waves that thunder and winds that blow,
blinding light that reflects on the water,
and is as painful as it is restful.
The snow will come,
a fundamental white,
which thrills and helps to make things new.
Emma, I love how the first lines promise a path from the “soot and ash” and that the lines lead toward a contrast to the darkness and heat and remains to “a fundamental white” and the possibility for what’s next.
Sarah
Thank you! “Soot” got me thinking about fire, and then I was looking through the green shades, which made me think of fire as a means of rebirth in nature.
Ohhh, this one has me sensing mortality and renewal. The lines “A pine whisper of a young green / which grows louder the further I wander through time.” I mean, wow. Did those hit me hard. That sense of wandering or aging away from youth, but hearing it more louly. I connect with that as I am aging and those youthful days are further away from me each breath, yet I have a greater appreciation for them than ever. Lovely. Lovely.
Llewellyn’s Lullaby
Dawn breaks with Midsummer Gold radiance
Highlighting the Sage Garden plains
Those perilous Key to The City trees standing watch
Next to the soft glow of the Whip Lash flames
Bearing their weight on the dichotomous Witching Hour homes
That waver in the wind, unopposed by the glint of crestfallen, Infamous gray steel
Which rest in outstretched, multiplicitous hands
With Porcelain Skin parading the streets
While the Desert Clay remains lost in Cave Pearl shame.
Whoa! First, I used Witching Hour in my poem (below), and so it is so cool to see the color here conjuring images in what I am reading as the aftermath of a forest fire “soft glow of the Whip Lash flames/Bearing their weight” — the destruction. The last word is lingering with me: shame. Haunting.
I laughed aloud at the close of this – mixed with whoa! at what a fun read this was! I love how seemingly nonsensical words can be made sense of through feeling their connotations in this poem. “The Key to the City trees standing watch” is a powerful image. And the phrasing “waver in the wind” is beautiful.
With a single chip of paint,
my mind speeds into the past
seeing Cleopatra’s Gown in the
Glistening Moonlight as she uses this
Golden Opportunity to achieve her Heart’s Desire.
Antony, in his Centurion Blue in
the Evening Light, allows his
Silver Swordplay to woo her
into a tempestuous Whirlwind
of tragic love on a Prophetic Sea.
Two lovers, each Legendary in their own right
and full of Intrigue, become Notorious
together. Outdoing each other with
Flirtatious challenges of one Transcendent
Garden Party after the other that bled into the
Midnight Hour. Her Ruby Lips were
Heaven Sent, but lured him like Witchcraft
into betraying his leader. A Warrior to the end,
but her Persuasion that she had ended it all,
was his undoing. Forever Faithful, she
could not endure with just a Fond Memory.
With a poisonous Love Potion or maybe an
asp, she allowed the Black Magic of
their love to become Everlasting lore.
It posted! Cara, I like the narrative you create here through paint chip colors. It’s pretty epic 😉
OMGosh! This is one of those “Are you kidding me?!” poems that I think “How does the mind come up with something like this?” So amazing. The storyline feels so mystical and fantastical, but grounded in the familiar Romeo and Juliet. How fun to in essence recreate a story with completely different sensory words. Nicely done!
This is fabulous! SO MUCH FUN! There really is a romantic connection through all these colors – and such a great tale you have woven. I love how the chip colors just pile on, building momentum – like this, especially:
bled into the
Midnight Hour. Her Ruby Lips were
Heaven Sent, but lured him like Witchcraft
Kim — This was so fun. I wish I had gotten to this earlier today. Dropped my daughter off for a five day band trip. Her first big trip away from us and this prompt was perfect.
No longer Snowbound,
I drop her off in the Rosedust morning.
She bounces out, with her Needlepoint Navy
backpack bulging.
I want to ask her if she needs help
pulling the suitcase,
balancing the Dutch Tile Blue fleece
and Acanthus pillow
I want her to say “yes” but I know the answer is
“No”
All the other kids are piling out of
cars and vans,
similarly weighted down,
like Library Pewter.
No adults get out of their cars.
No adults lend a hand.
So I don’t ask
We don’t ask
Because we all know the answer.
I stay inside the Twilight Gray car.
I’m feeling a Mellow Mauve rush of lonely.
Is this what an empty nest will feel like
when the final chick flies?
She pauses at the car window,
Rembrandt Ruby smiles tells me she is ready
“Thanks, Mom,” she says.
I am not ready
“I love you. Have fun!” I reply
And she is off on her school band trip,
Just the beginning of her many adventures
like a Drift of Mist
What a touching story, Tammi. I love that you were able to work so many colors into your poem. I love Rosedust and Library Pewter.
Beautiful story told with paint chips, Tammi. Thank you for allowing us all to share in this moment with you. I love the pause and vulnerability in the line “I am not ready”
Tammi,
I love this. Today my youngest son got his driver’s license. No longer is he dependent on me to transport him about. All of those little things that tear them just a little farther away are both celebrations and wounds. Your poem captured that balance really well.
Tammi, lovely telling of the story of this goodbye for five days using these rich colors. My favorite lines are:
They are so melancholy and show the loneliness you were feeling.
“Like a drift of mist” Wow.
I apologize if my poem weirdly posts multiple times, but it won’t post–I get a “waiting for approval” message I’ve never gotten before. When I try and repost, it says, “You’ve already said that…” So I surrender. I tried. Fingers crossed I can post tomorrow. 🙁
Hi, Cara! I found it in “spam” and posted it. So it is live now. Sorry for the frustration.
Just a thought…have you put your email into the “subscribe” box on the left and then confirmed your email. This may help. Again, sorry for the tech issues.
Thank you! I confirmed my email a long while ago. 12 months of posting without a hitch, I guess I was due. Thank you for rescuing me. 🙂
This was fun! A much needed activity after an eventful and hectic day! I wonder if you can tell what my favorite color is?
Puturple Storm
looking out into the Bermuda Onion sky,
wispy clouds, whispery clouds.
you see a Purple Dragon, its flames like a silky glare.
the thunder rolls, a Violet Echo in the distance.
a storm’s a’comin’, who wants to hide?
not me.
Reign Over Me with your Purple Rhapsody.
the lightning a Cracked Slate, sending a rush of Mauve Magic
prickling my skin.
Hush! Can’t you hear the conversation?
coming alive.
knight you Black Elegance.
Jessica, you had me at Bermuda Onion Sky! That may be my new favorite color!
Mo, it felt like a funky color name! I ran with it. Who knew that there were so many shades of purple!
WOW! I love this. As a fellow purple lover, I’m all about this. “Hush! Can’t you hear the conversation?” Excellent.
Thank you my fellow purple partner! I did this in a few minutes. I usually do a thorough edit with many revisions, but I just ran with this and didn’t look back!
Jessica,
I started my search in purple, too! I love Purple Dragon and Cracked Slate–fun!
Thank you Cara! I got my colors from the Glidden website. Once I was there, I couldn’t leave!
Kim!!! I had such fun with this! I found my way to the Sherwin-Williams site where I could type in a word and find all-related paint chips!
I love working in tight rhyme, so I went with ABAB. Between RhymeZone and the Sherwin-Williams site (that connected me with infinite other possibilities), I could find rhyme–then PAINT!
This was a blast for a word/sound/paint-nerd!
A Wordie Goes Paint Shopping
Heron Plume
Cultured Pearl
Springtime Bloom
Granddad’s Girl
Groundhog Day
Drift of Mist
Pelican Gray
Coffee Kiss
Clover Leaf
Passion Vine
Lace Handkerchief
Copper Mine
If you love words
Come on the trip
Where sound is heard
With each paint chip!
Allison, letter (and picture) perfect! I really enjoyed reading this out loud! So good!
This feels like a jump rope rhyme! I love your tight rhyming!
This is SO much fun! Thank you for this upbeat and clever poem. I love “hearing” your voice through this poem. I wonder if we could add accordion and make it a silly song 😉
Allison,
This is a bouncy jaunt through cool colors! Awesome and fun!
I can just see you smiling in the paint chip aisle at the names! Thanks for this fun celebration of beautiful words and combinations
Allison — Oh man, you really painted the town with this one. What a great way to attack the paint chips. It does feel like a wordie’s shopping trip through the paint store. LOL! I LOVE that you gave this the ABAB rhythm…wonderful. I have to go looking for “Drift of Mist”… mmmm. Hugs, Susie
Allison, thank you for sharing your process. I love the sound of these beautiful words. Well done. Thanks for taking us on the trip to the paint store.
Kim – I love this prompt a lot! I love the names of paint more than I like actually deciding on one. I can smell the “fresh-squeezed tulips” and picture this lovely summer moment you capture!
Island Time
Poseidon’s Gold burns off the silvermist
Evergreen fog lifts in time for
Sunset of apricot honey pouring onto Ocean’s Edge.
Look left – A mink slinks around the jagged granite
Look right – the telltale happy sausage shapes of seals
Happily napping on a magnetic grey mound
Surrounded by open seas
Tidewater whispers its
constant moving melody
as deep twilight blue enrobes
the windswept cliff.
Emily, you had such vivid imagery here! I laughed at the “happy sausage shapes of seals”, So many sights and sounds. I feel as if I am there!
“Tidewater whispers its
constant moving melody
as deep twilight blue enrobes
the windswept cliff.”
This puts me to bed, but in a comforting way!
Ditto what Jessica said! Also, your poem made me hungry with all those delicious names!
My favorite line—look left—a mink slinks around the jagged granite— almost musical, and visual at the same time…
Emily — You painted a picture of that Maine coast that had me there with you, looking right and left. Despite how soupy paint chips can sound, you made this just gorgeous. The “sausage…seals” is perfect…your choice of words is so evocative….”tidewater whispers” and “mink slinks” and “magnetic”… your poem is magnetic and a delight to drift into another place in my mind. Thank you for that especially. Hugs, Susie
Kim, thank you for another great prompt. I found the colors (in bold) from Sherwin-Williams. Try have some beautiful names for their paint. That tea with fireflies and waterfalls has me daydreaming today. (Daydream was another name for paint I saw today.)
There’s a full moon
shining tonight
So cold, the stardew has fallen and gathered on the sand
Moth wings glimmer, their free spirit soars sky high
Thinking they are keeping the moon in sight
They actually frolic just around my porch light
blushing in their undignified beating, their alabaster
pollen powder sprinkling the air as they dream big
Billowy breezes,
cheerful and undercool
make me
Think of the
heartfelt delight
I carry in this earthen jug
Denise, my favorite line “blushing in their undignified beating”. Who knew moths could blush. We see these creatures in our houses and curse them for getting into our clothes, and the familiar smell of mothballs in our winter wear. I am definitely not an outdoors person, but the way you described this moon-filled night is breathtaking! I love the choices for your paints!
Denise — I love the picture you painted and can see the “moth wings glimmer”. What cool paint colors you have chose. They really capture this moonlight night well.
Oh, Denise, I am loving this concept of “stardew” that can fall and gather. And then “moths wings glimmer” — well, this all feels so magical. I love being in this poem and will happily fall into the “earthen jug.”
Cheers!
Denise — Gorgeous images…paint chips or no paint chips, this is a place and a moment in which I can immerse myself and feel the glow. Lovely! Susie
Kim,
Such a fun inspiration with UNLIMITED applications. I know my students will enjoy this.
Shades of Grey
Somewhere between Silvery Moon
and Stormy Sky
float my opinions
One day tromping down Cobblestone Path
and the next perching on Pike’s Peak Gray,
my feelings tend to morph with my conversations.
At times, I glide through the clouds with Pigeon Gray
while others I gaze alongside Gray Owl atop a limb,
with my emotions matching their movements and the elements.
Cozy like Sweatshirt Gray or
sleek and scary like Gunmetal,
my beliefs can teeter between extremes
then settling in Winter Solstice.
Oh, Sweet Innocence,
it was fun to be you, yet
Perspective brought more balance
to my inner workings.
Cool Gray, I hope you stay with me
for Eternity.
18 January 2022
Ooops, my formatting didn’t hold. All of the paint colors are capitalized, but I had hoped to have them in bold. I suspect you can make sense of it without.
Susan — I love the colors you have chosen to reflect your feelings.
“Perspective brought more balance to my inner workings” — very powerful. I think the whole world needs a bit of perspective and balance right.
Susan, these cool shades are making me think I may have a retirement career in front of me. I wonder what paint shade namers get paid!?! I think Sweatshirt Gray is my favorite. I love all the moods in your poem.
Such a tender moment when the poem shifts to “Oh, Sweet Innocence” and then “Cool Gray, I hope you stay with me.” Love this invitation to take on perspectives.
Sarah
Growing up
on a steady diet
of Asimov,
The Matrix,
Skynet, HAL,
Johnny 5,
the T-1000,
and Blade Runner’s
replicants, I was,
understandably,
equal measures
delighted and
disconcerted
watching the
YouTube
clips of
Boston
Dynamic’s
breakdancing
robots.
I don’t know
if our Robot
Overlords will
be cruel
taskmasters,
or if they’ll have
sick dance
moves, but
after reading
the list of
A.I. generated
paint names
like Clardic Fug,
Turdly, and
Stanky Bean,
I do know
one thing
for sure
they’ll be
terrible
interior
decorators.
Ha!! I love the direction that you took this – it made me laugh, Scott! I share your disconcertment at the militaristic use of the Boston Dynamics stuff, cool as they are. I love the AI generated conversation hearts, too! Thanks for this light take on paint names – this really tickled me!
And now you’ve sent me down a new rabbit hole…
Scott — What a fun poem! Thinking about the possibility of “Robot Overlords with sick dance moves” made me laugh.
Scott— I almost went to that site— you have taken this to a whole new level of technology!
Oh, Scott, you funny duck you… this is soooo funny. I love that you had your way with the paint chips, and literally, I laughed out loud at Stanky Bean… HAHAHAHA! Years ago I taught a sci-fi class and it sure did give me an appreciation for the angle you chose… Asimov, oh yes. You have such a breadth and depth of all lit that it delights me to wander through your poems. Thank you! Susie
Emerald Isle
By Mo Daley 1/18/22
Days like today, when I’m out of the house before dawn
and home with the setting sun,
exhausting January Chicago days,
I need some reviving green.
I close my eyes and try to remove the veil of dust,
the pea soup
that prevents me from imagining the Quixote’s windmill
or even a silk star.
My soul longs for respite,
even just a glancing glow of hope—
perhaps the spring will bring me closer to Irish folklore
and the countryside’s river reeds.
Mo – I totally relate to “exhausting January Chicago days” and my desire for greenness and nature. It can be hard to find, but the words you selected brought brightness, sunshine, and natural beauty to mind. Spring’s coming. Love this!!
Wow…This beautiful imagery really touched my heart, Mo.
Wow Mo! You take these colors and give them life! “Exhausting January Chicago days” sounds just like an Arkansas All Season Week. I feel this poem, looking forward to the next break. It can’t come soon enough.
Mo — Oh, yes! I hear you. I’m feeling the same in Cleveland, Ohio. Craving some “reviving green” and a “glancing glow” of hope.
Aah, Mo — I hear you! I remember those brutal dark-to-dark days that had me never catching sunlight. It nearly put me in a coffin some days. You have pulled up the paint chips that lay this out with perfection. I’m go look for some Irish folklore and river reeds! Thank you. And I hope today is easier for you. Hugs, Susie
Thank you for the fun prompt. I used the Glidden website, and I immediately connected to our ride home from Pittsburgh yesterday. I also bought the Paint Chip Poetry from Amazon. The paint names are in bold.
What began as
delicate white
flakes in the
early evening
turned into a
Pittsburgh gray
sky filled with
precipitation
falling like a
phantom mist
through the
midnight hour,
piling up on the
obsidian
pavement.
In the
morning glory
we set out on
the snowy, slushy roads
like a
warrior
only a
stone’s throw
away from
death.
SUch vivd imagery! I really had no idea there were so many beautiful paint color names. Glad you arrived safely, Heather!
Heather, I really enjoyed this! You’ve woven these names perfectly into your narrative! (And I wouldn’t have known that some were colors like “early evening” or “precipitation” unless you bolded them as you did.) And, like Mo, I’m glad you arrived safely!
I love the turn this poem takes in the middle, from glorious, ethereal snow to slushy, dangerous roads. Well-chosen imagery woven into a little narrative.
Heather — I am moving through your story with you. These lines were especially vivid:
Pittsburgh gray
sky filled with
precipitation
falling like a
phantom mist
Spring can’t arrive soon enough.
Kim—this was SO MUCH FUN!!! Thank you for the prompt, the website, and the rabbit hole you sent me down! “Steeped in fireflies”—I’ll join you for that chamomile tea!
It’s a Paint Chip Life
These days, I resist becoming Agreeable Gray
It is all too easy to fade into the Evergreen Fog
Of retirement, to let the Dusty Dawn entice me back to bed, beneath which
Dust Bunnies gather because I. Just. Don’t Care.
Whiskers appear in odd places. I root them out, the granny hairs.
I pull my hair back into a Pony Tail, hoping for an air of Casual Elegance
Rather than the Gray Glimpse of anonymity.
I remember the days when I flaunted Magic Carpet dreams.
Everything was ahead; the Shining Armor of youth defending me,
Rose Stained lips and Chambray shirts,
Light Coral sunsets and Celebration Orange mornings.
Thunder Bay and Magical Stardust and Festival Green afternoons.
And now, the Dusty Dawn calls. I arise,
Steely Gaze readied for the day ahead.
My Alley Cat purrs at my feet, I sip my Cuppa Coffee.
And contemplate the Glorious Gold of the day ahead.
Gayle,
I love the tour of life in color, each line a vivid image with a tone all its own but as a whole basking in the color of your voice. So much joy in the “Cuppa Coffee” and the “Glorious Gold” with the speaker in those last lines. I imagine I will enjoy “It’s a Paint Chip Life” stanza or two of my own as I sip coffee tomorrow morning.
Sarah
Gayle, a cup of coffee at the dusty dawn, contemplating the glorious gold is a win! I’ll take it any day over the lipstick and the magic carpet dreams. Down to earth is the place to be, and I’m embracing it right alongside you. With the alley cat.
Gayle, I love this meditation on how colors and outlooks change over time. You weave in your color names effortlessly. I really love the last line, contempling the “Glorious Gold of the day ahead.” I also love that Dusty Dawn is sleepy and wakeful. Just beautiful!!
This was a fun puzzle of a poetry prompt! I used the Benjamin Moore chips I found in our basement from a project long, long ago. I’ve highlighted the individual colors.
the snowfall white of the winter snow is now
a melancholy clay beige
washed with misty air hazy skies so overcast
a world so desolate and bare
I escape to my feather down bavarian cream comforter
seeking the calm cream froth ambiance of
an afternoon slumber
in just a few quiet moments
I am welcoming wild windswept dreams from cloud nine
yes, powder sand dove wings and sea wind
I wake at wind’s breath
to pure joy
a sunbeam sundance sunburst
such a delightful yellow
the ache is gone
a distant gray
swept away with the cloud cover
leaving barely a shadow
Maureen,
I am in awe of your poem, and I feel like I need to meet the person/people who are naming these paint colors so that we can thank them for their poetry, too.
That “quiet moments” is a color escaped me until now, but it is a color, and it is a feeling of “windswept” alongside “cloud nine”. And an ache is “a distant gray” leaving “barely a shadow.” Such truth in the hands of a poet. Thank you for helping me color my ache today.
Sarah
Maureen, after a lonnnnnnggggg day and an achy body, “the ache is gone” sounds so relieving! I want it to be a distant gray, swept away with cloud cover. That comforter is sounding just right, right about now~
Maureen,
I feel the physical comfort evoked in your images of “feather down bavarian cream comforter,” “wild windswept dreams,” and many others. There’s a Hygge quality to your poem. It’s simply lovely.
Maureen – Oooo, I’m so glad you saved all those old paint chips. The weaving of this narrative from color to color is seamless. That’s really cool! Well done!!! Susie
Maureen, I really like this imagery of a cozy winter’s nap. This stanza:
“I escape to my feather down bavarian cream comforter
seeking the calm cream froth ambiance of
an afternoon slumber ”
It feels so lovely and luxurious, and it’s one of those simple pleasures of winter that we often forget in the “bare” and “desolate” winter. Thank you for helping me think of it in a new way!
I really enjoyed looking at paint chips, Kim! Thanks for this fun prompt.
The Magic of Spring
By Nancy White
The snow dissolves quickly
As the sweet lemon sun emerges from the opal slate clouds.
Spreading its golden mist across the hidden valley,
the soft light coaxes new life, erupting through mounds of rustic earth:
Sunsparks and dandelion chains,
Thistle and radiant pink hyacinth play in the fields of awakening green shoots.
The dark truffle loam yet dotted with nebulous white,
Yields to the pressing growth as
Spring stretches and yawns,
twirling it’s magical cloak.
Those dandelion chains have me wanting to lie back in the soft grass of a summer meadow and relax the day away. This magic of spring is exactly the appetizer I need!
Nancy,
I love thinking about the winter sun as “sweet lemon,” and how lovely to color the clouds “opal slate.” I am pulling on the “dandelion chains” today as I desperately need some hints of summer and yes, “it’s magical cloak.” I am also reading through again to notice your careful use of punctuation. Love that colon.
Sarah
Holy mackerel, Nancy, this is beautiful. The colors and natural beauty just float on every line. I love every single line. The sense of the earth opening to let new life emerge is lovely. You slowed the process so we could see and feel this spring movement. I love it. Susie
This was fun. I’m definitely going to use this with my 7th graders.
Thank you for the inspiration.
I use the green palette from the Glidden website. The color names are in bold.
Easy Being Green, it is Not
My mellow mood melted away;
I’ve gone giddy with a light drizzle of
slap happy mojo.
Playing hooky with reality, my
obligation paid in full.
Harmonious
sylvan
paradise found.
On the morning breeze
I declare to myself;
enough is enough,
be spontaneous,
be yourself.
These are delightful colors for green – “obligation paid in full”? ha! You’ve created a witty poem here! I really like “Playing hooky with reality.”
I love the idea of playing hooky with reality!!
“I’ve gone giddy with a light drizzle of slap happy mojo” is quite the imagery! Your seventh graders will love this – and what a great mentor text you have written to share with them.
I connected to many of your lines. “Playing hooky with reality” and “enough is enough” is where I want to be today.
Steve, this was a lot of fun! I really enjoyed “a light drizzle of / slap happy mojo” and “Playing hooky with reality” especially. Thanks for playing with the green palette today!
Singing the Blues
By: Emily Yamasaki
limitless
to feel no weight
just the wisps of cloud
skies
to hover over our earth
with no shadows to cast
above
all your troubles, leave them behind
singing the blues
Emily, I love that you flipped the sorrow the title usually carries into something joyful – limitless, without shadow, being above trouble. This speaks to me today, especially as I look out at our gray overcast skies.
To drift off into dreamland…..skies of blue, clouds of white…….weightless…..oh, what a peaceful floating! Makes me think of a blue Calgon bubblebath with jazz playing in the background. Sweet!
Emily,
These are whisky, ethereal, idyllic, and comforting images. Breathing these words deeply.
Oh, what a lovely thought – to float “above/all your troubles” !
Well, I didn’t exactly follow directions, jumping the gun before reading them. However, I like the actual guidelines and will go back and try again… Life is full of choices (paint chips) every day. Not all of them easy, sometimes we control those choices, and sometimes we deal with what comes our way… so along that line of thought comes the first thoughts I wrote down…
“Paint Chips”
Hey, pick me, pick me!
The chips boldly say.
I am calm, I am bright,
My color will make your day.
Ahhh. So hard the choice, with knitted brow
My muddled mind begins to fray.
My hands go up, I bellow out…
“Let the chips fall where they may!”
KG
Kathy,
I love that you choose to let ALL the chips fall where they may – this reminds me a lot of how I feel when I visit the animals at the shelter, all asking me to pick them, pick them……I just want to choose them all! I’m glad you joined us today! Love, love, love your poem! You have rhyme scheme and the visual imagery of confetti is lovely – like a parade of color! I’m so glad you joined us and hope you will come back!
This is so fun! I love your rhymes and your resounding final line, great wisdom for any day!
Kathy—this is great—you really did let those chips fall! Love the personification, and the answer to your choice issue!
I love the idiom you ended with. Your poem captures how I feel trying to make that decision.
I am feeling so happy reading your poem! I am also completely entranced by the thrill of going to a paint store and choosing a color at random! What nonsensical genius!
Color Trickery
Paint –
slathering layers of color
over wearied surfaces –
a flex of power,
so in-charge,
changing
in a crossfire of brush strokes,
the smudge of a thumb…
there, it was avocado green,
now, it’s ocean mist. Snap!
Just like that,
we transmute our world.
But do we see
what is there
underneath
as well?
If you find a jay’s tail feather,
hold it to the sun,
it isn’t jay blue at all:
it’s black or slate;
color sometimes tricks the eye,
light and new angles,
Mother Nature’s trickeries
push aside the camouflage
and deliver us a reality
that surprises or excites
or disappoints, arouses.
Are colors what they seem?
Or do we brush on veneers,
labeled with words
that evoke a memory
of the seaside fog
or autumn sunset with winterberries,
zinging our synapses,
sparking journeys that sate
our thirst for yesterdays
to be our tomorrows?
Are all the colors
really black or slate,
like the jay,
and our imaginations
replete with possibility?
by Susie Morice, January 18, 2022©
Wonderful, Susie! Your poem started me of with thinking of how new paint can make fresh and hide the old and ugly. Then I like that you switched to the tricks that color can play to the eye, some not being way they seem. Your ending is so hopeful and full of delight in new imaginations and reality.
Oh, Susie! I love the revelation. In the shift with your question, you invite me to change my gaze from transformation toward the specter of transformation, toward flaw perception, maybe my projections, which, now I realize, have been limiting possibilities. Maybe I will resist naming for a while!
Susie, you always manage to make us think – to see things that aren’t obvious at first glance. I love that you used the word Snap! at the changing of the color, and that you ask what is underneath. That jay’s tail feather is making me wonder about more of nature’s optical illusions. Your colors are lovely – winterberries, seaside fog, ocean mist and avocado green. I love them all.
Susie,
I needed my magnifying glass to read your fab poem, which I think is uber appropriate give this idea of covering, of hiding, of glossing over. Color plays tricks on our eyes, transforming g depending on the light, depending on the day. I love all these layers, this metaphor of “a flex of power” paint embodies. I’m gonna read and reread this poem and am so grateful to you for your words.
Thought provoking poem, Susie. I wonder how much of our perception is real and what part is imagination? Then the emotions that come when truth is revealed—so much to take in! The layers, the interpretations, and the hope of possibilities!
Love this so much –
and you have me puzzling not only about our own “labels,” but who is naming all these paints? How do they dream these up?
If you find a jay’s tail feather,
hold it to the sun,
it isn’t jay blue at all:
it’s black or slate;
color sometimes tricks the eye,
This image. Right there. You had me at the painting-over analogy, and then took it to a whole new level. Beautiful!
Woohooooo! Susie!
Don’t you know exactly how to make my brain pause and wonder. You do it every time. I love this idea of the honesty of nature. Imagining a time when we can accept what nature delivers and love on it like we love on the ridiculous, the false, the façades.
Amazing!
My gods, woman. Your words are golden.
This: “If you find a jay’s tail feather,
hold it to the sun,
it isn’t jay blue at all:
it’s black or slate”
made me sit up and pay attention!
I was invited into your poet’s keen vision. I desperately wanted to see a bluejay’s feather up close.
You then guided me through layers (deeper) of sight, color, wonder.
Your poem was a gift.
Luna
Soot shades the curve of my hip
so all she sees is the Iron Mountain tip
pointing toward her Witching Hour–
the time when draped in Onyx Racoon Fur
her shadow emerges from bed to beg me
for slumber.
But my Cheating Heart is Wrought Iron.
I will not dim my light–
in fact, I will dust Soot to contour,
flash my figure full,
so that she knows:
finding peace is not on my mantel but hers.
She must find her own path toward sleep,
for I plan to shine all night long and into dawn.
Sarah,
I love the personification of moon. She has the essence of a lover awaiting her partner, beckoning them to bed. There’s an ambiguity here making me think of the way sun and moon shine light in different ways. It’s erotic and sublime and gorgeous.
Sarah — There’s some forceful determination here, “flash[ing] my figure full” — yea! And “I will not…” And “I plan to shine…” Power words right there. I am intrigued by the play of dark and light with sleep and no sleep, dawn and night. It sort of rolls like a tossing and turning. The most provocative for me is that “onyx raccoon fur”…that took me to a spot that was new and had never thought about. Hugs, Susie
Susie, You are the BEST reader! I love reading your comments because you help me see poems at a deeper level. Thank you.
The moon being one of my favorite muses, I was immediately drawn to your poem. I love the tone; your moon has real attitude as she should. It’s like they named the colors just for your poem. Very cool.
A cheating heart of wrought iron – what a metaphor! The witching hour, the shadow, the raccoon, the mountain, the moon…..all of these things of the night work together to set just the right mood and hope she can find sleep even in the full figure light of the moon! Love this!
Sarah, as a late-night poet, I usually post comments to my fellow stragglers. I’m glad I searched for your (mid-day!) poem tonight.
Your first line stirred me (that curve of the hip!).
You then pulled me in with a dream both frightened and assertive. Is that the combination we draw on for all confrontation?
I LOVELOVELOVED “I will not dim my light–
in fact, I will dust Soot to contour,
flash my figure full”
and your rejecting/returning of “finding peace” to her (whoever that is) as you sink into your much deserved rest.
Hugs,
Allison
2022 Be Like…
On this mist-shrouded day
2022 be like…
walking through a deep dark wood
without a compass, blindfolded, trapped in The Blair Witch Project mocumentary.
2022 looks like
navigating a schooner through a foggy harbor shrouded by gargoyle-like creatures
spying from cliff dwellings, waiting to attack.
2022 feels like
being lost in a corn maze after dark
where each corner turns into a black hole
on the precipice of the Grand Canyon.
2022 sounds like
Niagara Falls cascading through graphite
while I play the part of Sisyphus pushing his
boulder in a rainstorm up Alice’s rabbit hole.
2022 is
knowing “this is how it will all end
not with a bang but a whimper.”
—Glenda Funk
*This poem does not reflect my mood today, but it’s generally what I fear from this year.
These are the paint chips I used from Paint Chop Poetry Kim referenced in her prompt.
Been there, doing that, Glenda!! Will this ever end?
Niagara Falls cascading through graphite
while I play the part of Sisyphus pushing his
boulder in a rainstorm up Alice’s rabbit hole.
You nailed it!
Glenda — You are not alone in this view of 2022… while being vaxxed has me in a better state than prior to that life-saving balm, I am still there in every one of your couplets. I feel so strongly the sense of “where the hell are we going”… and “why!!??!!??” I feel the gravity of Sisyphus with that bloody boulder. I love the references in that stanza (Alice and the falls). I, too, have ruminated of the “bang…whimper”….it caused me to think about the disappearance of the Mississippian Indians here at Cahokia Mounds…I get it now…the curse of some ancient virus surely sent them in a tailspin, then add floods and the absence of modern science to save lives. Each of the couplets was so precisely graphic…just great images…creepy, but spot-on. I’m glad the poem doesn’t really reflect your mood at the moment…nor mine (as I love goofing around with words), but we share these fears. Sending you the vibes of sunshine that is caressing STL right now…it’s 54 right now! Snow’s all gone. Love, Susie
Glenda, who woulda thunk we’d still be here in this endless cycle of pushing boulders up rabbit holes (simply perfect, BTW). I can’t decide which of these minis most represents our current whimper, but there’s something about the corn maze next to the Grand Canyon that truly frightens me (heights is a massive fear).
I can so relate to “while I play the part of Sisyphus”…and I know I am far from alone in this feeling.
Glenda, you have quite the winning description of 2022 – the corn maze after dark, the falls cascading through graphite, the deep wood, the foggy harbor……all of these are places that could describe the patterns we’ve seen as we head into this 2022, and I know it has already given us some challenges. I’m so glad that you posted today. I do hope that it becomes a whimper and fizzles its troubles on out of our way. We have lives to live – places to go, people to see, things to do. And we’re hanging on to the hope that things will start looking up SOON!
Hi my friend,
Jeeeesh, we are really in it and it’s only been 18 days! I feel your poem deep in my soul. I read the end and thought to myself, are we only able to whimper because we are barely audible in our masks? I’m so exhausted in the classroom trying to hear what my scholars are saying while they wear masks but don’t want to speak loudly. Sooooo darn frustrating. I hope 2022 ends with a SHOUT.
Stay well. ?
Thank you for sharing this with us! I find myself pausing after each series of lines to reflect because it described the many emotions I’ve kept inside throughout this entire pandemic. I think I may need to sit with these lines a moment longer.
Sroloc
Sroloc, beast of my eye,
From Iron Mountain, where the Gray Owl cry.
In the shadows of first light,
He throws pale oats to blot my sight.
Forcing me into the shade of smoke,
Sroloc cast his blindness on me, a cruel joke.
He is the rainbow, I’ll never see,
Everything vibrant, denied to me.
I’ll paint my sky orange or green,
Wear mix-matched socks, my clothes off-set, with plaid between.
Rust and bone are the same to me,
Sroloc is not what I see.
Enchanted iris pale, accept dark and white,
Blue, red, and yellow are not in my sight.
For I learned Sroloc from a tree,
Adapted my vision to society.
So, doctors say what I see, is what I learned,
Vengeful, my pink fire burned.
My world is tainted seafoam,
Pale roses, striped with a dull undertone.
Nothing is bright and brilliant,
My sight basic and resilient.
Camouflaged from reality,
Sroloc play a dreadful trick on me.
Understand I don’t see,
colorS visually.
Boxer, oh my goodness! I just googled Sroloc thinking, “Is this a mythological being? Is it something like a deity or what?” And then it hit me……..now I know what it is, and it’s genius! I was wondering about that capital S in the last line, thinking it was a typo. Nope…..you hid some hints and threw in some humor and there in the middle of it all is classic, trademark Boxer – ever the clever, never to be underestimated. I love how you raise our thinking on this one.
This is brilliant (Sroloc be damned) in content and form. I love the couplets. You may not see colors, but you certainly understand them.
If I may, I would like to share one of my philosophies that reality is an opinion.
Wow! I had to read Kim’s comment to figure out who/what Sroloc was. This is absolutely amazing! A whole world in one poem… the myth of Sroloc.
Boxer,
My daughter and I created a game 25 years ago (she was 5) and we called it The Backwards Game. She and I would spell words backwards and see how fast the other could guess the word before it was fully spelled out. Then, my besties and my sister all called each other our names backwards. Hence, they called me Yecats and still do when we all get together. I say all that to say, I saw Sroloc as colors immediately and wondered WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT? I love it!
Love that rebellion!
The backwards game sounds cool ?!!
ebyam ew nac yalp 1 yad.
I dluow eb erom naht gnilliw dna ydaer! ?
Kim, I must say diving into the color palettes was a lot of fun, and now I understand Kevin’s poem more than I did when I responded to earlier today. Anyway, I’ve been playing with this for some time and have to call it quits as obligations are calling me away. Thanks for adding joy to my day!
Nostalgia
Years ago
Childhood was slices of happy
Every morning sky diving
Into medieval forests of fling green
Our world a honey haven
We be daring jeweled in clover leaf chains
Our free spirits, totally teal
Soaring along meadowsweet mists
Screaming, “Look at me!”
Cosmic rays kissed our buttery skin
Life was an endless adventure of
Pineapple delights and
Glistening moonlight
But once you left
A gray whisper evaporated
Our gone giddy world into crushed velvet;
Left to navigate a burnished blade
To fear wayward winds,
violet ice, steel curtains and
Summer shadows
Barb Edler
18 January 2022
Barb — The title is perfect for the whimsical images of youth…the colors seems to dance across the lines (pineapple delights, meadowsweet mists, cloverleaf chains). When the poem takes its turn: “…once you left…” sweeps me into the gray, into the cold and shadowy. Nostalgia is a strange sensation, and I think you’ve captured that here as the beauty takes on a melancholy. Hugs, Susie
Barb, childhood as slices of happy is just perfection! I loved the nostalgia evoked here in the endless adventure and cosmic ray kisses. That gray whisper evaporating is just gorgeous.
Barb, I’m loving the color choices and recognizing them from some of the other choices today, too. Your gone giddy world into crushed velvet is a great play on words with shades of color. I especially love that childhood was “slices of happy.” What a beautiful feeling of nostalgia you have drawn in your color palette today!
Ooohhh I am in love with your poem!! I am glad I don’t know exactly which words were from paint chips because my mind accepted all your creations:
Phenomenal poem!
Oh, I got a little silly with this one, Kim. Thanks for all the fun I have had browsing through paint chips.
Sweet Emily
Sweet Emily has a sea fantasy – a romantic isle
“Off the coast of Bermuda,” she dreams with a smile.
In the morning fog, she can sit on the bay
wearing a tiny bikini and say
“look at me!”
In the enchanted evening she will sip on rum punch
and forget to eat lunch
choosing only the brie.
The local beachcomber, Parakeet Pete,
will interrupt her solitude and dance at her feet
trying to cast a magic spell
by offering crushed pineapple to eat.
Give him a Bermuda Onion sliced in a shell
and he will disappear
into the dusk’s horizon glow
only to interfere
with her summer sunset, tomorrow
by still drawing near
with something else to show.
Maybe Bordeaux?
Susan — I totally enjoyed the playfulness of all the colors you selected. Every single one of them rang true to my imagination. It really does feel like a bit of fantasia. Not silly at all…playful and rich. Thank you. Susie
Susan! This made me chuckle! So whimsical! I love it!
Absolutely love how you played with this prompt, creating a fun short story! The rhyming was an extra treat…this pair of lines really makes me smile:
Who comes up with these paint names? So awesome!
Susan, the fun of paint chips is just so inviting – – the descriptive words and thinking of ways we can use them to draw a picture or paint a wall – – full marketing techniques for mood! I love your Bermuda onion and the pineapple and parakeet and rum punch you’ve got going on in this tropical paradise. Yes I think the bordeaux will make a great choice for sure!
Kim, your prompts remind us both to be aware, to be thankful, and to show we care.
Rainbow Reminders
The colors of the rainbow remind us
That difference is a must for beauty!
All of any one color is boring even if it’s our favorite color!
The colors of the rainbow remind us of duty.
The colors of the rainbow remind us of our Creator
Scripture tells us He promises never to send more
More than we can bear. There will be others to share
To share in our ups and our downs
Swimming with us through our frowns.
Thinking of the rainbow, you will see what I mean.
The reds are for love, the purples for passion, the blues for peace
The yellows are mellow, and the greens convene
All around us for food, clothing, and shelter, blessings never cease.
So, when our feelings are running helter-skelter
Remember the colors of the rainbow are bold
The spectrum shows the breadth, the size shows the depth.
At the base, we’ve been told there may even be a sparkling pot of gold!
We may be that pot of gold for our friends here and there.
Today, let’s send them a note and let them know we care.
Feels like a lovely poem for a children’s picture book, Anna! The stanzas invite imagery for each page as the colors come to life in “helter-skelter” and “greens convene” and “reds…for love.” Such a collage of possibilities for us to carry to our friends “here and there.”
Hmmm. Interesting! Do you have art students who’d be interested in collaborating on such a project to self-publish with me? There are no out-of-pocket expenses or income until we order print copies and sell books on Kindle Direct Publishing unless a publisher picks us up first. 🙂
Anna, I love ALL of this, but especially these lines today:
The colors of the rainbow remind us of our Creator
Scripture tells us He promises never to send more
More than we can bear.
The colors of the rainbow are a promise – – yes, yes, and I love the reminders of His promises. I’m needing those reminders a lot lately.
Thank you for your beautiful words always.
Anna, I awwwwwd out loud at the end of this. I’m absolutely going to take that closing line advice today and send a few notes of appreciation. I love the line, “All of any one color is boring even if it’s our favorite color.” Those are words to live by! Fun poem. Thoughtful poem.
Hello All! I had a lot of fun with this prompt, thank you!
Cravings
To trek the jungle, slashed by thorns, in awe of Earth’s abundance, and stub my toe on Ancient Copper.
To stand on moorland, whipped by winds, in awe of Earth’s hues, and brace against the Evergreen Fog.
To ride in the valley, scorched by the Sun, in awe of Earth’s depth, and stain my fingertips with Canyon Clay.
To slip from the sands, pricked by shells, in awe of Earth’s continuity, and buoy my heart on an Azure Tide.
To climb high in a wood, hampered by snow, in awe of Earth’s cadence, and quiet my breathe for a Sleepy Owlet.
To Meander.
Brittany,
I love seeing your bolded phrases at the end — reminds me of yesterday’s Golden Shovels, but something new is happening here. The repetition of “to” at the beginning offers comfort at the beginning of each line as you take us on a journey of awe; these colors as proper nouns make me feel like I am visit a friend of Earth in each line.
Sarah
Brittany — You could put this together as a children’s book…with bold colors…it encourages us to wander, to meander, to journey both in our lives and in our minds. Lovely! Susie
The idea of stubbing your toe on Ancient Copper is so intriguing—and the close—To meander. Lovely. (Meander is such a wonderful word, isn’t it?)
Brittany, your words have the cadence and flow of a cumulative story, a lot like the house that Jack built or the Nest that Wren Built. Yes, a children’s book would be an awesome project! Especially that cute little sleepy owlet……oh, to see those eyes.
So much fun! I can imagine using your poem as a mentor text for some of our students. What a great way to tie in multiple “chips”! Thank you for sharing your joy.
Greetings, Kim! Thank you for today’s fun prompt (and yesterday’s too)! I’m up early and about to leave for work so I’m posting now and will come back to read/comment. Your poem inspired something sensual and the paint chip colors were PERFECT. Color names are capitalized for clarity.
❤️?Teenage Lust ❤️?
Mischievous Mikena bloomed from
his kiss like a Morning Glory
Caressing her in the
Drift of Mist
Her heart raced
With the Goddess Green River
Washing away her Moody Blues
His lips were Mulberry Silk
And like a Gale Force
Their Synergy collided
Under November Skies
©Stacey L. Joy, January 18, 2022
Oh my! I love waking up to read this first poem about teenage lust! The paint chips you have chosen are so descriptive. I have to read this one over and over…”lips were Mulberry Silk,” Synergy colliding…wow, and wow!
Oh, so decadent, Stacey. The alliteration and consonances carrying through each line groove so sexy and with such rhythm in the “Goddess Green River” and lips of “Mulberry Silk” crescendo-ing like a “Gale Force.” Wow. Blushing over here.
Stacey, you’ve rendered a Harlequin romance of a poem!! There’s an undeniable sensuality in these paint chip names; they’re meant to allure… this poem is too much fun. So help me, I see puffy pirate shirts and ripped bodices and skirts billowing in the breeze under an ominous sky…
LOL about the puffy pirate shirts and ripped bodices!! Hilarious. But yay me, I achieved a goal that I originally didn’t plan. ?
Stacey — You wild thang you! This is headed for a Harlequin romance paperback! Great summer hot-mama reading! I love the whole over-the-top images of color and sensory mood….OOOOOOooooo! 🙂 Love it. Susie
Hahahaaaa, you know my writing comfort zone, don’t you! ?
Stacey, well, if this doesn’t just sum up teenage lust in an alliterative apotheosis! All the intense emotion and sensuality! There’s something interesting about those Mulberry Silk lips though. Hmmm…
Your poem awakens so many senses. I loved the last two lines. Your choices of paint chip words were perfect.
Oooooh, I’m seeing the mulberry silk and the enticement of a racing heart and a collision of synergy under November skies…….oooooh la la! Yes, you found the sensual today, my friend! What fun to think that colors can inspire so many different moods and feelings, from giddy to depression to tropical beaches to…….sensual. Kind of makes me wonder what I was thinking when I chose some of my room colors. I may need to go back and find some mulberry silk or something.
Thank you Kim, this is right up my alley this morning.
Tuskegee-My Burnt Sienna Alabama College Town
As we rolled into town so many years ago,
I wondered if modernization had forgotten you
where were the silver new cars, charcoal paved roads
concrete sidewalks and plaster lined walkways ?
Mostly what I saw was barren cracked muddy pathways
and I wanted to return to perfectly manicured Los Angeles.
Tuskegee birthed the chestnut Lionel Ritchie and the Commodores
Brilliant mahogany George Washington Carver studied here and realized
sepia peanuts were miracles.
The luscious emerald land and miles of pea green forests held memories of battles and victories yet also crimson bloodshed and heartache. The antebellum mansions whispered stories of betrayal and golden victories.
The education was superior, the friendships were everlasting, and the maturity was spellbinding.
After four and a half years of a kaleidoscope of memories and experiences, I left my brunette pigmented municipality and reluctantly returned home to Disneyland with that special antique-white paper in my hand.
Seana, wow, what a mesmerizing poem so full of striking imagery. The color words are magnificent from the silver cars to mahogany George Washington Carver, and chestnut, emerald, pea green to the antique-white paper, all of your words provide a stunning painting of your visit to Tuskegee and back. I feel a lot of conflicting emotions throughout this which you capture so well through the line “a kaleidoscope of memories” and the contrast between the brutal historical past to the beauty of your college days. Fantastic narrative poem!.
Seana, honey! This is my favorite of all the Seana treasures! Did it roll out with little effort? I ask because it reads like a story that’s meant to be told over and over.
Total love! I hate Disneyland so I agree with reluctance to return. Lol!
Seana, what a perfectly painted visit to Tuskeegee! Oh, how I love being in that chapel and seeing the hidden messages in the stained glass and the tree where the memorial to Carver is. We took our students on a field trip here, and what a highlight it was, seeing where the Tuskeegee Airmen came to be. You paint a descriptive picture that sharpens memory and vividly brings the scenes to life.
Seana — Holy cow! I LOVE your poem today. The images of Tuskegee and the surprise that it was like stepping back in time. You’ve offered not only marvelous images (cracked muddy pathways … emerald land … mahogany George W…) but a valuable reminder that great gifts come from all corners of the land. (I personally LOVE Lionel R. and our botanical garden here in STL has a whole section called the George Washington Carver Garden ( https://racstl.org/public-art/george-washington-carver/ ) . It’s a favorite part of my garden walks. Lovely! Thank you Susie
Love this, Kim! I have never heard of this before, and yet so many times I have commented on the cool paint names. I mean, that’s someone’s job, right? To come up with all those – how fun! And oddly enough, I have a color palette a painter left behind, so yippee!
introverts
the reticence of a wallflower
holds a childlike current of undercool
how we can find a haven
in tightly folded corners
of crisp linen those
quiet reflecting pools of thought
we clocktick time
awaiting moments so thunderous
as to set our whole souls ablaze
I am fascinated by your title, Denise and how you reveal your subject through crisp imagery. Loved “quiet reflecting pools of thought” and your ending is on fire! Beautiful poem!
Denise, those sheets hanging on a clothesline come to mind here
holds a childlike current of undercool
how we can find a haven
in tightly folded corners
of crisp linen
And there is nothing, nothing, nothing like the smell of sheets dried in the breeze. Heavenly and memorable….that’s what your words are today in this poem.
Denise, I love it! I think my poem and yours may be in the same romance collection our friends are hinting about.
Ablaze is a word I adore and never use it. Thanks for this poem. Sweet introverts have always made me wonder.
Kim – you’re ever the artist at work! How perfectly you weave these paint chip colors into a poem of enchantment. “Steeped in fireflies and waterfalls” – so alluring and whimsical; I want to be in this place! And I have been, really, or one like it…
So, as soon as I saw your paint chip “Dirt Road,” it was over. I had to take it. The imagery pulled too hard.. a variation of a theme I wrote around often. I confess to writing the poem based on that one chip alone and then finding a chip or two to add for effect: Oyster Shell, Turtle Green, Pink Blossoms, Dreamy Memory, Forever Fairytale, Summer Sunflower.
Thank you for this magical journey today 🙂
Dirt Road
I watch the highway
and my heart beats fast
when I see it coming
just around the bend
old dirt road
off to the right
threading through the trees
past Miss Etta’s tiny turtle-green
screened-porch house
where she dips snuff
past the homeplace
standing like a dreamy memory
paint fading like tired oyster shell
sunlight gleaming
on the tin roof
Grandma was born here
past the tangle of sunflowers
planted by her brother
who still lives here alone
something is different about him
I don’t know what
it’s in his long face
he never says much
but he did give me some quarters
once
just beyond the sunflowers
Granddaddy’s garden
it looks like something
an artist painted
in watercolor greens
in perfect rows
he grows collards
and little round peppers for his vinegar
squash, cantaloupe, snap beans,
silver queen corn, crowder peas,
and butterbeans,
speckled pink and white
when I help shell them
from their furry green pods
then the grape arbor he built
laden with scuppernong vines
big leaves waving hello
big brown-gold grapes
won’t be ready yet
and they aren’t even pretty
but to me
they taste like Heaven itself
then the row of crape myrtles at the curve
bright pink blossoms nodding their heads
sometimes shedding, rolling on and on
smooth forked trunks
where I like to climb and sit
and make up songs
thinking in forever fairytale
the house
bright white
black shutters
and I can’t think now
about the tire swing
hanging there in the pecan tree
studded with woodpecker holes
or the tiny cemetery with its ghosts
across the old dirt road
because Grandaddy and Grandma
are coming across the yard
straw hats shielding faces
lit with smiles
bright as the summer sunflowers
ever turning toward the sun
Daddy pulls off
the old dirt road
into the yard
we’re here
we’re here
I am out of the car
before it stops
running toward
open arms
and I never
want to leave.
Oh, Fran, I love this beautiful journey you take us on through your rich and vibrant poem.. The ending is sheer heaven. Your poem is so full of rich imagery, I felt I could see the house and all the plants, etc. Gorgeous poem!
Wonderful reminiscent trip down the dirt road to open arms, filled with specific imagery. I can taste and smell this place. Love the repetition of “we’re here!” Yes, that is what you shout!
Fran, this drive with you is reminiscent of summers long gone – – the butterbeans, the collards, and the little house
off to the right
threading through the trees
past Miss Etta’s tiny turtle-green
screened-porch house
where she dips snuff
this reminds me of some of the older generations of my family, always with gardens, always shelling some kind of peas in a big enamelware pan or shelling pecans, (and I see your favorite grape in there, the scuppernong) and that ending – – a visit to grandparents is just the ticket to this dirt road trip, smiling like the sunflowers! Oh, my heart!!!
Fran — I was there following along that dirt road. Holy cow, you laid out the poem like a road in itself…every curve and undulation brings a wave of memory. This is truly beautiful. A poem to keep forever. Each image is like a welcome hand extended and pulling us along. Gorgeous memory and rich with color. It was particularly interesting to have the softer colors along the road and then to look up and see the black and white shuttered house…it caused the reader to stop and stare at how the house punctuates the larger ‘scape. Wonderful poem. Susie
Fran, your repeated use of “past the” takes me along on the journey with you. And having grown up on a dirt road with a mighty preference to travel along them, I loved the ride. That tangle of sunflowers had me pausing, just to take in the view (so glad they showed up again in the grandparents’ smiles!). This was a treat today!
You are a masterful storyteller through poetry. I want to live there, be there, soak it all up! The city girl that I am would’ve enjoyed being able to see and do and embrace all that dirt road goodness!
So much resonated with me. I saw this and imagined being fearfully intrigued by the ghosts:
Gosh, when is your book coming out?
❤️
This is a fun prompt. I have a set of Paint Chip Poetry in my classroom, but alas, here at home, I went to the Glidden site and chose the trending colors. What emerged is still a mystery to me. It led me back to my OLW, enough.
Finding my fingers
dipped–
green like guacamole—
in the soil of my life.
You place a candle on the table,
a small flicker of light
blessing the moment,
like vining ivy on a brick wall
tangles in on itself but never falls.
We are becoming
ancient copper,
stained hands
that have worked too long
in this soil.
We woke up alive today.
That’s enough
for now.
Margaret, your lines “soil of life” and “we woke up alive today” speak to me–daily reminders of gratefulness and hope. Thank you for sharing.
These phrases, Margaret-!! Soil of my life, vining ivy on a brick wall, we are becoming ancient copper – just glorious. Speaks so lyrically and poignantly to the passing of time and celebrating now, being alive – it IS enough.
Margaret, wow, I had to laugh at the end of this because it kind of reflects how I often feel…like ancient copper, but trying to find some joy in waking up alive. I thought the “blessing the moment, like vining ivy on a brick wall/tangles in on itself but never falls” was mesmerizing. Thank you for this gorgeous poem.
Margaret, the OLW is so effective here in your final line…. That’s enough for now. Your color choices are beautiful, and I can see the flicker of light blessing the wall and the intertwining vines climbing but never falling. Beautiful ancient copper and hands stained with the soil of too-long work! Oh, I’m wrist deep in that feeling.
I knew this one would be good when I read about fingers dipped green like guacamole. I love the images of growing old together and working in the soil so long. Yes, every new day is a wonder and surprise when we awake.
Margaret, you did something magical here from guacamole to vining ivy to ancient copper. You joined things that I would never expect together in a poem and made them exactly what they needed to be. You crafted beautiful images of appreciation for the life you have enjoyed, toiled through, and lived! But my heart holds the final stanza as special because we all need to stay in the present and enjoy the gift of NOW.
?
Gray is subtle, rock rib color, unappreciated and unreciprocated. I live in cave country and limestone has a hundred thousand shades of gray. There are three main colors to the elemental pallette of nature: green, more green, brown, and…winter’s gray. And I don’t care it is spelled. 😉
I feel the gray
of the pre-dawn
winter hollar,
elemental,
foggy,
and vulnernable as thin ice
on a rain barrel
refracting the sky.
I feel the gray
of a rabbits’s ear
and a pigeon’s feather
and a possums eyelash
raining like the small gray rain.
I feel my gray world
is a shadowy statue garden
slick with white and black,
steeled to the blandishments of Spring,
a wintry medium insomnia.
Great visuals and I always stop myself when spelling grey/gray or is maybe it should be greigh!
Kevin
Terry – how your gray world beckons. In the elemental fog, gray wonders exist. Feeling the gray of a rabbit’s ear, a pigeon’s feather, a possum’s eyelash – intricate and intimate pieces of living things, small and gray and vulnerable…all hauntingly beautiful and mystical. I love every bit.
Terry, I love how your poem zooms into such precise images as a pigeon’s feather, a possums eyelash. You’ve capture the gray world and I feel that emotional heaviness with your final “a wintry medium insomnia”. Gorgeous poem!
So tactile! I can feel and see the rabbit’s ear and the pigeons feather. Your describe gray elegantly.
Love all your colors of gray. This line resonates “ vulnerable as thin ice
on a rain barrel
refracting the sky.” There’s the juxtaposition of danger and hope.
Terry,
your color captures the mood and paints the picture in so many wonderful ways. I think I like the possum’s eyelash best…..it’s that sort of image I wasn’t expecting to wake up today envisioning, so those random and creative ways of seeing the world excite me! Thank you for sharing today.
Terry — I was so drawn to particular sensory bits: “thin ice” (of course…I’ve written a poem called “Thin Ice”; “the gray/of a rabbit’s ear” and “possums eyelash” (so delicate a detail!)…and I love the final line! I’m curious…where is this gray cave country? There are lots of caves here in Missouri… and heaven knows when winter’s gray settles in, it is palpable. Thanks for a mood setter. Susie
I live on top of cave and karst country in southwestern KY about 15 miles away from Mammoth Cave National Park.
Kim, such a soothing way to ease into the morning in your words today. There’s a much-needed gentleness in the ambling and less traveled roads. I want to join you on the porch swing, steeping ourselves in fireflies. Such delicacy in both actions and word choices.
She was once
Wild Honey
and Candied Apples,
but life has a way
of turning Victorian Velvet
into Broken China,
Worn Lipstick,
and Faded Jeans.
The colors as passage of time – I love this poem, Jennifer. You’ve packed so much in such few lines!
Jennifer, this sounds like lyrics to a song! There’s a story in how she went from honeyed apple to worn lipstick and faded jeans, how sweetness turns to toughness is beautiful, and a little heartbreaking. Brava!
Jennifer,
Turning victorian velvet into broken china…wow, the juxtapositioning of these two phrases is very powerful. Thank you for sharing today.
Worn lipstick and faded jeans into…what?
Jennifer, you amaze me with the way you capture meaning and nuance in so few words! These could even be chapters in a novel of a girl’s life journey…her survival and coming to a place of comfort in herself.
Jennifer, this is such a perfect description of how life can make one change. Loved the bold words and the contrast between the vibrant Wild Honey to the broken china and faded jeans. Powerful poem! I can so relate to this!
Jennifer— Victorian velvet to Broken China, Worn Lipstick, and Faded Jeans. Wow. Visuals abound!
Jennifer, I agree with Emily – – a song indeed! That passage of time catches up with all of us who can only look back on a tube of Maybelline Strawberry Frost lipstick and sigh……thinking of the good old days…..you know, the 1970s……
This was a creative way to approach paint chips, and I love what you did here.
Jennifer, you succinct poem summarized the kinds of books I’ve enjoyed reading over the years. Each bolded “color” reminds me of a genre that once captured my attention. What really caught my attention and made me think this way is Victorian Velvet. I used to be big into Historical Fiction writing during the Victorian Age! Then, more recently with contemporary YA, I’m into Wild Honeys and Faded Jeans.
It would interesting for us to see what colors and textures our students would choose to describe their reading choices. Hmmm. This group is always stoking new ideas for writing prompts that offer choice!
Oh! Fun idea, and I bet kids would get into that challenge.
Yesssss, Jennifer, yessss! This is my kind of poem! So much to see and enjoy! I love the shift because that’s exactly how I feel these days…
I’d love to read more about this “wild honey” of a woman!
ooooh fun! What lovely images of “fresh-squeezed tulips,” and “fireflies,” a “front porch swing.”
I thought the Skinny form would be good…it’s sort of like a paint chip. The paint chip I first spotted was Snow shadow blue.
Where are you on a snow shadow blue day?
This
blue
sighing
blue
shuddering
blue
colder
than
shadows
blue
on a snow day – where are you
Linda, I love the interjection of blue throughout your piece and how it transitions like shades (colder than shadows is my favorite!). I’ve been asking where our snow days are. But I think I need to be asking about snow shadow blue days instead.
Appropriate song in the key of blue minor:
https://youtu.be/YwSZvHqf9qM
What a fabulously-named paint chip color! I am shivering in these blue-shadow images, tasting snow in the air… love the repetition which mimics the shivering itself. Magnificent sense of a moment, Linda. I can even taste the blue.
Linda, oh my, I love the focus on blue, the cold and the shadows, and the final question is heavy! I also really love how you build to your end! Magnificent poem!
Love how the skinny form worked for your blues today.
Linda, my springtime isn’t quite here yet, so I’m loving the blue snow day and only wishing for snow on days when kids can stay snuggled at home in bed for some extra hours before going outside to sled and play in the snow. It’s just what we do in the south……hope for school snow days! I love the skinny form for this paint chip poetry day. You worked that one so beautifully!
Chipping away at the emergent teen
years of palpable mixed veggies retorts
weaved with emergency zone
red pepper emotions
unmellow mornings of tart-ful play
slowly manifest into a mood of espresso beans
fabricated gunmetal disclosures
chain reaction of sentiments cloud the house
iced cubed fervor somehow burns like fire
Stefani, your title is perfect for our paint chip poetry, and the chip names fully capture all that is teen. That last line speaks so clearly to the emotional (and lack of emotion) age – ice cubed fervor indeed!
Making me think that you could use seed catalogs as a prompt because of all the hyperbolic description. Maybe you could just look at the pepper section to write a hot poem. Or the moon garden seeds for a lunar poem.
I like this idea, a seed catalog poem, sounds like growth in the making.
I like the adjectives you chose, palpable, fabricated, Ice-cubed…Such rich word choice. Emergent teens are complicated beings.
Stefani, your title is both amusing and befitting the color and mood descriptors in your poem…..that ice cube fervor burning like fire is such an apt emergent teen mood! You’ve got the all right shades today!
Oooweee, Stefani, your poem made me reflect on my own horrible moodiness as a teen and then my son’s when he was dragging me on his emotional rollercoasters of life. Wow. And to think you did it with paint chip colors!
Well done, Stefani!
Green becomes you,
the new Blue
the season –
the paint chip shade
capturing a world’s
divided attention –
in brushstrokes,
covering mishaps
and yet drying
ever so slowly —
we dip into the avocado’s
perfectly glowing hue,
a taste of this year’s
Guacamole
—– inspired by Open Write’s Paint Chip Poetry prompt
https://www.ethicalela.com/paint-chip-poetry/
Kevin, I enjoy your wit at the end and your lines “brushstrokes, covering mishaps…” give me a feeling of resetting and rejuvenating. Thank you for sharing today.
Kevin, your opening line is provocative. I love the focus on the brushstrokes, covering mishaps that seems to reflect a far larger world and then pulling the reader back into the present of tasting Guacamole. Mesmerizing poem!
Kevin,
My brother, a realtor, posted last week that another color had been “added to the list” of finalists for color of the year. It was a teal shade of blue, so this resonated with me today:
the paint chip shade
capturing a world’s
divided attention –
The color chips can take our attention away from focusing on the world for just a moment to look at some cheerful choices – and that’s a happy thing!
🙂
Kim
Kevin, this stanza evoked images of politics! Was that your goal?
the paint chip shade
capturing a world’s
divided attention –
in brushstrokes,
covering mishaps
and yet drying
ever so slowly —
Do current politicians seem to be trying to cover their mishaps – (both blue and red). Hmmm. Gotta think about this one.