Poetry - Colour Suite

[Amnesty]

Color Suite

"Blue"

Blue -- Cerulean, cold as winter.
Blue -- Navy, warm as summer.
Blue -- Pale, weak and weary.
Blue -- Royal, power overwhelming.

Connotations wide, but Blue remains
passion incarnate, power vested,
and privelege enveloped.

"Gold"

Gold -- giver of glory.
Gold -- giver of love.
Gold -- giver of respect.
Gold -- giver of aristocracy.

Forever symbol of wealth art thou,
for no other is better than yours,
bestower of power; giver of hope.

"White"

White -- face of the pure.
White -- facet of old.
White -- juxtaposition of respect and reverence.
White -- encompassed in the snow.

Hark, purest divinity; hear thy cry,
impossibility save one -- the saviour of man,
given, bloodstained, transparent, o' white.

"Black"

Black -- secrecy and blindness.
Black -- terror of the unkown.
Black -- misunderstood, incomprehensible.
Black -- o' keeper of depression.

Pitiful creature of darkness,
what kind of life have you known,
in the prison of your mind -- lover unreciprocated.

[Amnesty]

Another work of mine, but much longer--critique cordially requested:

"Beholder"

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
all those old women say,
so would it be much bolder,
to delcare good and evil in the same way?

One's own personified glory,
one's own exemplified song,
you keep it to your own story,
far -- far away from the undermining throng.

So likewise what determines good,
and then what establishes evil;
for one to boldly explicate who would
rest ethereally in their own bevel.

Through hallowed halls and,
vine-draped walls night,
bear witness there within the balls,
of triumph and galls of terrror.

Is the human mind prepared,
to conclusively find Hitler,
or Churchill winding down a staircase,
to bind themselves in triumph or fear?

Legacy Enveloped. History awakened.

Can the mind truly understand,
Churchill's goodwill stand*,
when pitted against unfair prejudice,
like a baseball thrown amiss?

But history, my friends,
history cannot and may not bend!
Even when versus the highest men,
history cannot and will not mend.

And in this tale of triumph and sorrow,
one sees the dawn of tomorrow,
as a 'morrow filled to brim with hope,
filled to brim with love.

For history canot bend.
And history will not mend.
The beholder finds himself critically without,
a sort of doubt nor an archaism with end.



*Refers to his declaration:

"The inherent vice of capitalism is the unequal sharing of blessings; the inherent virtue of socialism is the equal sharing of miseries."