Planet of Six

Six people were born:
three pink, two blue, and one yellow
like a jaundiced newborn's
ass...

There were more pink people,
rulers of this great nation,
controlling valentine's day
and cosmetics counters.

The pink had the ability to turn
blue people's offspring
somewhat purple, they could

transform the last of the surviving yellow
into agent orange.
Discouraging, especially since
the frail yellow boy sat in a corner
holding his flute between his legs.

poem by Marina Gipps
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Women Before A Shop

The gew-gaws of false amber and false turquoise attract them.
'Like to like nature': these agglutinous yellows!

poem by Ezra Pound
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Picture Poem #184 (From, This is my Wasteland)

Life creation
embarked the breasts
of destination

tough pride like
yellowed brown grass

correlation unrelieved
to cornerstones of hearts

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Red Pupils And A Pretty Face

Red pupils and,
a pink iris
hands so soft
and yellowing at the end
pink lips
white face
little hips
as white as lace
a soft kiss
and a subtle race

poem by Rez rabbit
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The Yellow Rainbow

Way way up way up in the sky
I am sitting on a rainbow
Holding tight so I won't slide
I am sitting on a yellow rainbow
Yeah my baby
It is a yellow rainbow

There is no green
There is no red
There is no blue
Purple or any other hue
Yet it is a rainbow
A rainbow of seven yellow stripes...

Nahh dont let me slide
Dont let me fall
Keep me up there
Way way up up in the sky
Atop my rainbow
With seven yellow stripes....!

[...] Read more

poem by Rowving Smith
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The Lime Tree

That lime tree on the distant rising ground
(If it was a lime tree) showed her yellow leaves
Above the renewed green of wet August grass--
First Autumn yellow that on first Autumn eves
Too soon was found.

Comfortless lime tree! Scarce an aspen leaf
Like a green butterfly flitted to the ground;
There was no sign of Autumn in the grass.
Even the long garden beds their beauty brief--
Their mignonette,

Nasturtium and sweet-william and red stocks,
And clover crouching in the border grass,
And blood-like fuschia, eve's primrose and white phlox
And honeysuckle--waved all their smell and hue
Morn and eve anew.

But that far lime tree yellowing by the oak,
Warning oak, elm and poplar and each fresh tree

[...] Read more

poem by John Freeman
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In Back of the Real

railroad yard in San Jose
I wandered desolate
in front of a tank factory
and sat on a bench
near the switchman's shack.

A flower lay on the hay on
the asphalt highway
--the dread hay flower
I thought--It had a
brittle black stem and
corolla of yellowish dirty
spikes like Jesus' inchlong
crown, and a soiled
dry center cotton tuft
like a used shaving brush
that's been lying under
the garage for a year.

Yellow, yellow flower, and

[...] Read more

poem by Allen Ginsberg
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Color As Beginning

Forget love
I want to die
in your yellow
hair.

poem by Richard Brautigan
Added by Dan Costinaş
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bananas, yellow
as the sun, even your shad-
ows are yellow.

haiku by Morgan Michaels
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yellow colored leaves -
suddenly the traffic light
turns them green again

haiku by Dumitru Radu, translated by Dan Costinaş
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Basically there is no difference between whites and blacks, browns and yellows. I decided to think no more of people as Northerners and Southerners.

quote by Ethel Waters
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Daisies

along the way
beside the ditch
are the daisies
to choose

the white ones are
too pure
and the yellows are
jealous
the...

why do i have
to tell much?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I shall keep singing!

250

I shall keep singing!
Birds will pass me
On their way to Yellower Climes—
Each—with a Robin's expectation—
I—with my Redbreast—
And my Rhymes—

Late—when I take my place in summer—
But—I shall bring a fuller tune—
Vespers—are sweeter than Matins—Signor—
Morning—only the seed of Noon—

poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Card (Nonet)

As I came across the yellowed card
Unfolding lost fond memories
Life pages of long ago
Yearning for those I miss
The lines written there
Slowly became
Soft whispers
My eyes,
Blurred.

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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In An Old Diary

Faded pink petals
tween old yellowed pages
In a time worn ol’ diary
Filled with eras and ages

Leaves, red and golden
Pressed between old yellowed pages
Of old diaries beholden
to lives unfolded stages

Still linger on pages
Faint aromas and memories
Of phases and stages
All now, long lost histories

Tarnished brass clasps
Still holds e’er so tight
As did young hands once grasp
To their breast in the night

[...] Read more

poem by David Whalen
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For Anne Gregory

"Never shall a young man,
Thrown into despair
By those great honey-coloured
Ramparts at your ear,
Love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair."

"But I can get a hair-dye
And set such colour there,
Brown, or black, or carrot,
That young men in despair
May love me for myself alone
And not my yellow hair."

"I heard an old religious man
But yesternight declare
That he had found a text to prove
That only God, my dear,
Could love you for yourself alone
And not your yellow hair."

poem by William Butler Yeats (1933)
Added by Dan Costinaş
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Yellow Camaro

And the wheels of motion will move fine
God bless the U.S. assembly line
It's a game and you play with hi-octane
It's the pace of the race, and you are following
Right on
Yellow Camaro
Yellow Camaro
With freedom of eagles you soar high
God bless you're a mess before you try
It's a shame that you've done such a dumb thing
It's the pace of the race, and you are following
Right on
Yellow Camaro
Yellow Camaro (Oh no)
Oooh Right on
Yellow Camaro
Yellow Camaro (Oh no)

song performed by Weezer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Regrets are man made.

A yellowed flower, a withered blade,
A wilted stalk and the dehisced pod,
Having done their cherished works,
Die in neglect without any regret.

Must you regret, the old, the invalid?
02.01.2003

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Book

Ripening of old age,
Yellowing faded words.
Unseen by friends for centuries,
Friends and foes alike.

Knowledge to be known,
Seeds of wisdom sown.
It waits by a wall in darkness,
waiting for an heir.

poem by Mandy Lee
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Vivid Blue

And from the room I watched her go
Down broken concrete steps
Beyond her lay the dusty path
Of dried and crusted earth.
Long and narrow, winding,
Around a yellowed garden lawn
Spans a river, vivid blue.

poem by Paul Colvin
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