Tag Archive: Color

bye, passing thru

black-cherry-black: outlines objects
for those with night vision

I am cozy in its dark warmth

powder-blue-moonlight: stark relief
cooler gray shadows

night in the arbor lost-in-pink:
awake at first light
these are the deepest hues

breathe in
the petrichor
salty brine

© chagall ∞

The Long Tickle

My vices are tinted
chartreuse, emerald, and puce.

© Chagall ∞


The light is soft here as if all the world is heather
askance, atilt and askew. I stare at a door ajar
that invites me to slip in now and then, and I do.
I float on a tone, bulbous sound beats against time
measured in gulps, a three-quarter waltz paced regularly
when I least expect it to. I wish you eternal lavender.
Life offers life on the gentlest of palms below the wrists’
hollows so slender and kissable. Cheeks intended for cupping
dimple and provoke the protrusion of lips for tugging, to daub,
pull and pout. The colors around me begin to lose their soft-edge,
sadly. I hear the click of the door lock, not certain which side I am on.
On the down beat I gracefully swoop with torque and suspension,
sinew and skin and blood, at work in miraculous union.

© Chagall 2017

Sara of Beautiful Rain

Small letters alight on her lashes, tiny poetry about her eyes
Kisses of ancient rhythm, a pucker for a flame stoked
Each blink the turn of a page reveals whole worlds
Every breath has meaning, those lighter than air defy gravity
Limericks line her brow when she laughs
When she sighs I trace my lips along the long volta of her neckline
Where her sonnets turn around
Down her arms flow three-letter words, we are kids again
Awash in primary colors, hands waving wildly at tickles
Dancing about in a spray, we drink water from a hose
There are symbols dangling from her ears that I do not recognize
Baubles of mystery; I linger there eschewing translation.

© Chagall 2016


Early My Light

Late autumn hot
unique humid
sea breezes in-land
colors still ablaze
I a burnt copper
in setting gold sun
reflections, perfect blues.

Chagall 2015


The leaves outside my window
couldn’t be more red, more red
than I have ever seen.

The sky above my head
couldn’t be more blue
yet less blue than I am now.

Chagall 2015

No Photon Left Behind

I must tell you all
about the last luscious light
burnt-yellow still burning
in the tops of tallest maples
scraping the tip of blue night
while alive at the other end of sky
hangs the moon manicured frenchly
whiskey sweet a spirited sprite
burns the tip of my tongue

Chagall 2015

Perhaps Turquoise

Easier to float up
than glide down

I fear for crashing
unable to brake

Ascending I’m secure
push gravity

Full-massage body
peculiar underwater

Chagall 2015

Haiku For Purple Heather


Perhaps it was topaz
similarly lavender
blues, aprons for stars

© Chagall 2015

Aloha Kakahiaka

chagall backdrop

Sky like a luau skirt
against starched duck-white
of rough linen clouds

© Chagall 2014

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