Quotes about pastel, page 5
Lighter Shades Of Blue, Green And Brown
soon the flower puffs
and spreads the softness of its seeds
this wisp of the winds
this call of the ground
to perpetuate life
to kill the ugliness of death
to resurrect the hope of the grasses
the ideals of the flowers
leaves dissolve like watercolor dampness
in the canvass of life
so soft, soft green meadows
pastel woodlands
light green horizons spreading
diffusing against the fading light of dusk
meeting once again
the blueness of the skies
like baby's breath to mother
lips kissing meeting
in the cradle.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Obsessions Of The Lost Man
i
at the lobby of the manila hotel
you sit on one of the glossy chairs
you hold a square note in your hand
you want to tear it
you sit still and keep on waiting
for no one.
ii
you look at those things near you
closely scrutinizing the
big round Greek pillar
tracing the veins of the pastel brown marble
it speaks a history of this place
the previous war
where your father was the traitor
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Soft On My Eyes
Pastel colors, soft and pale
muted for my sight
express a feeling of tranquilness
and so it is I write
of baby blankets,
soft and light.
And pale pink roses
that carress my eyes
and colorful sunsets
in the skies.
Of robin's eggs
in shades of blue
and aqua waters
in a tropical view.
Of soapy bubbles
that burst in air,
leaving their colors
floating somewhere.
[...] Read more
poem by Edwina Reizer
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End of day thoughts.
The glory of the sunset fades.
The evening sky surrenders to
a nonstop flow of darkest blue.
Which overwhelms the pastel shades.
The evening stars come on parade.
A panorama we can view.
In hopes of seeing something new.
Although the stars we see displayed.
May well have burnt out long ago.
There is no way that we can know.
Which of the stars we think we see.
That twinkle brightly overhead,
are still alive and which are dead
We never will most probably.
Saturday,27 November 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Evening routine.
A maple tree is glowing red.
Highlighted by the setting sun
A fiery glow that quickly spread
to tint the clouds now day is done.
When day is done before the night
comes to erase the pastel hues.
Which fill the western skies with light.
I watch and glory at the sight.
I watch until the stars appear
as spots of light against the blue.
It is a ritual, I fear
I have become accustomed to.
Then I will take my homeward way.
A peaceful ending to my day.
Wednesday,27 October 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Hospital
Doors moan like lovers, as compassion flows
like sick over scrubbed floors.
Controlled circumstance of pity,
corridor shufflers look lost as refugees,
concerned and clumsy with frames,
bags of black blood follow them like pets.
(They are not allowed to find sleep in the ground,
under air and pine needles) .
A place of decay under pastel, a maze for
Jesus the daughter of God, for ghosts and unlikely saints.
Let them go softly into the night.
Let them pass through the thick window glass
to where the others are.
poem by Leslie Philibert
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By The Lake
ACROSS the flat and the pastel snow
Two people go . . . . 'And do you remember
When last we wandered this shore?' . . . 'Ah no!
For it is cold-hearted December.'
'Dead, the leaves that like asses's ears hung on the trees
When last we wandered and squandered joy here;
Now Midas your husband will listen for these
Whispers--these tears for joy's bier.'
And as they walk, they seem tall pagodas;
And all the ropes let down from the cloud
Ring the hard cold bell-buds upon the trees--codas
Of overtones, ecstasies, grown for love's shroud
poem by Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell
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Heavenly Messenger.
Heavenly messenger.
As morning breaks the still, dark lake
reflects the opalescent light.
The waterbirds begin to wake.
Then somewhere near a lark takes flight.
This tiny bird whose melody
informs the world of a new day.
She rises singing joyously.
The blackbird adds his roundelay.
A pleasure for the ears and eyes
of early rising men who see
the pastel colours of sunrise.
Spread from the east above the sea.
I am content to listen to
her hymn of praise forever new.
Saturday,11 September 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Where do they go? for M'lady Denise
A sky layered in lavender,
old rose and streaks of gold that glow.
Against approaching indigo
as night accepts day’s surrender.
The sun descends into the sea.
His task complete it’s time to rest.
As night achieves a slow conquest.
The colours will fade gradually
Tomorrow morning with the dawn
The pastel colours will return,
The Sun will rise to take his turn.
As in the east new day's born.
Where do the pretty colours go?
when darkness reigns. I do not know.
Saturday,03 July 2010
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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Azul....
Shades of blue confronts the
man in blue, so blue, but not
electric blue, the blue in faded jeans
saddening blue, the blue in marble,
glossy, but sadder still, the faint
blue of a heavy sky, laden with rain
some restraints, falling suppressed,
the blue in that deserted lagoon,
those blue Spanish eyes gone,
the navy blue without an address,
the blue lips, lesser in oxygen
content,
the bluebird perched upon a twig,
kingfisher blue without a fish,
a blue heart, pastel blue shirt
torn blue, blues, blue bruises....
the puerto azul....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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