Quotes about purples, page 4
Beeny Cliff
I
O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea,
And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free-
The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me.
I I
The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away
In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say,
As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day.
III
A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain,
And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain,
And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main.
IV
-Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky,
And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh,
And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by?
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poem by Thomas Hardy
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Lamp of Crystal
Golden flame amidst silver mountains
Echo canyon still as moonlight
Love rides thunder in blood of passion
Drink from fountains of amethyst
Sanguine rubies of violet stars
Maidens of fire dance in gossamer blue
Red beams of Mars drink the light
Desire lit journeys into the fire
The earth dresses like a bride
Spring belongs to every bold lover
Sanctuary invites me into her forest
Rivers dressed in lime flow like elves
She has brought back the noble eagles
Diamond eyes sparkle like lighthouses
She walks on moss made of dreams
Tendrils of wildflowers by the sea
Her hair washed in the glorious dawn
Man awakes to his lovely destiny
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poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Rainbows
Rainbows of color, are seen after a storm,
The way God made the first one, the curved form;
Red, yellow, blue, green and purple, orange too,
Made as a Promise for Noah, a promise kept true.
Rainbows of color, across the land so wide,
In the trees and hills, the sunsets, over a set tide;
Only God could make it, oh perfect beauty,
Made to enjoy them, made for you and me.
Rainbows of Colour, in Gods creatures too,
Such pretty animals, like the camealion it's true;
Then there's the birds, from flamingo, and parrikeet,
God made them all, watch them at the zoo, sitting on a seat.
Rainbows of color, in all the trees and flowers as well,
Like the roses, carnations, violets, and the Irish bell;
Purples, pinks, blues, many shades we'll see,
God also put colors in an insect, such as a tiny bee.
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poem by Margaret Haig
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The Violet Pressed in a Copy of Shakespeare
Here in the inmost of the master's heart
This violet crisp with early dew
Has come to leave her beauty and to part
With all her vivid hue.
And while in hollow glades and dells of musk,
Her fellows will reflower in bands,
Clasping the deeps of shade and emerald dusk,
With sweet inviolate hands,
She will lie here, a ghost of their delight,
Their lucent stems all ashen gray,
Their purples fallen into pulvil white,
Dull as the bluebird's alula.
But her where human passions pulse in power,
She will transcend our Shakespeare's art,
From Desdemona to a smothered flower,
Will leap the tragic heart.
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poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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~Painting Poetry~
Poetry in thought
words tumble
from my mind
onto the page and screen
like paint dripping
from sable silk brushes
creating new visions
of new realities
in the virtual space
of my Soul
painting a perfect picture
words drip down the canvas
in deep brilliant hues
of purples and reds
and vibrant blues
to soft indigo of
twinkling velvet starlight
yellow tones as warm as sunrize
and golden oranges
of fleeting sunsets
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poem by Soulful One
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Like Rain
I stood today on that ironwork footbridge
over the White Cart and its blooming banks.
Your river was running the wrong way again
around the old village and under the stars
down by the ruins under blue skies
through purples and yellows and lilacs.
and the sun was the sun of a June too long flown
and your bridge was an archway made of stone,
It was nowhere near Paisley or these bass-beat days,
yet only a blink or a heartbeat away.
I saw you between those two lochs we know so well.
You stood on the arch there and looked east and west,
your eyes full of distance, and heart light with dreaming
that flooded the air of the dance hall
where I saw in your eyes what all young lovers seek
when we danced close and slow for the last time.
Too young on the scene then I saw it all too late.
Though graced by it there and remembering now
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poem by Jim Hogg
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Portrait of a Boy
After the whipping he crawled into bed,
Accepting the harsh fact with no great weeping.
How funny uncle's hat had looked striped red!
He chuckled silently. The moon came, sweeping
A black, frayed rag of tattered cloud before
In scorning; very pure and pale she seemed,
Flooding his bed with radiance. On the floor
Fat motes danced. He sobbed, closed his eyes and dreamed.
Warm sand flowed round him. Blurts of crimson light
Splashed the white grains like blood. Past the cave's mouth
Shone with a large, fierce splendor, wildly bright,
The crooked constellations of the South;
Here the Cross swung; and there, affronting Mars,
The Centaur stormed aside a froth of stars.
Within, great casks, like wattled aldermen,
Sighed of enormous feasts, and cloth of gold
Glowed on the walls like hot desire. Again,
Beside webbed purples from some galleon's hold,
A black chest bore the skull and bones in white
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poem by Stephen Vincent Benet
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The Plougher
Sunset and silence! A man: around him earth savage, earth broken;
Beside him two horses -- a plough!
Earth savage, earth broken, the brutes, the dawn man there in the sunset,
And the Plough that is twin to the Sword, that is founder of cities!
"Brute-tamer, plough-maker, earth-breaker! Can'st hear? There are ages
between us.
Is it praying you are as you stand there alone in the sunset?
"Surely our sky-born gods can be naught to you, earth child and earth
master?
Surely your thoughts are of Pan, or of Wotan, or Dana?
"Yet why give thoughts to the gods? Has Pan led your brutes where they
stumble?
Has Dana numbed pain of the child-bed, or Wotan put hands to your plough?
"What matter your foolish reply! O man, standing lone and bowed earthward,
Your task is a day near its close. Give thanks to the night-given God."
.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Slowly the darkness falls, the broken lands blend with the savage;
The brute-tamer stands by the brutes, a head's breadth only above them.
A head's breadth? Ay, but therein is hell's depth, and the height up to
heaven,
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poem by Padraic Colum
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The Window Of Dreams!
In outer space, where starships fly,
Beyond the sensors and Man's eye,
There rests a realm where pulsars glow
And vibrant colours overflow!
It's there that poets ought to be:
Amid the rainbow ecstasy!
For only those that dare to dream
Should share the effervescent stream!
God grant me visions such as theirs
Who've seen the wondrous while in prayers
To Him above Who's seen it all
And wants to share and thus enthrall!
For what is beauty till it's seen?
It's just as though it's never been!
But when it's known for what it is,
It's like the sweetest ever kiss!
The window frames the sacred sight -
Amid the essence of the night,
Amid the purples, reds and blues,
Amid the myriad mighty hues,
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poem by Denis Martindale
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Dell And I
In a mansion grand, just over the way,
Lives bonny, beautiful Dell;
You may have heard of this lady gay,
For she is a famous belle.
I live in a low cot opposite,
You never have heard of me;
For when the lady moon shines bright,
Who would a pale star see?
But ah, well, ah, well! I am happier far than Dell,
As strange as that may be.
Dell has robes of the richest kind-
Pinks and purples and blues.
And she worries her maid and frets her mind
To know which one to choose.
Which shall it be now, silk or lace?
In which will I be most fair?
She stands by the mirror with anxious face,
And her maid looks on in despair.
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poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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