Colored Sestina, et al

Colored Sestina

You are the midnight purple
Of tonight’s sky, the blood red
That stains my wounds, the tender blue
Of bruised eyelids, the sting of orange
Juice, the vibrant green
Of a newborn bud, barely yellowed.

Time passes as your face embraces ancient yellow,
And your fingertips turn purple,
But you are still as beautiful as young green,
Sophisticated like the boldness of red
Satin, the memory of the sting of orange
Juices on your tongue, the shock of blue.

Of frostbite, then a deeper ocean blue,
Or a brighter yellow
Bee, suckling on a decaying orange
Flower, bruising purple
From wear and tear of the red
Blazing fire, which will yield, someday, to youthful green.

Will you lay with me in the aged green
Grass, or gaze at the blue
Sky? Will you pluck red
Roses, be nicked by their yellow
Cynicism of the world, of men? I am but purple
Patience, the complement of your orange.

I watch you suck on sweet orange
Slices, tear apart green
Leaves with sticky fingers. I watch you with a purple
Adoration, and I hunger for your blue
Eyes, your buzzing yellow
Happiness, your certain fondness for red.

I kiss your cheeks of rosy red,
Flushed from your orange
Desire to see the yellow
Sun. You look to the fresh green
Horizon, to the new blue
Sky, and I realize I am not your love of purple.

I cannot bear to watch you embrace red, or purple,
Or orange or blue,
For I am green with envy and full of desired yellowed.

Morning Has Insomnia

i am caffeinated Hours of my Children
who expect me to distill their Dreams
so they can dance with Reality

i am Constant
hurting from the blinded Kiss between
your Toe and the glass Door

i am the Aftermath, the new Beginning
the Realization that Your bed is empty, cold
the ironic Affinity of Chill and Sun

i am the automatic Machine,
a double Entendre of Monotony
the Routine You never realized

i wait for You
because You make me all of this
and That is all I’ve ever wanted

Breeze of the Time

The red and orange leaves
Remind me of a time
Where there was a simple breeze.

And she seemed so at peace,
And her long strands of hair remind
Me of the red and orange leaves.

He offered me wine and cheese,
And I could not accept, for it was a crime
Where there was a simple breeze.

And he cried, and his pleas
Ring in my ear, “Send mine
Love to the red and orange leaves.”

Somewhere in the trees,
I can hear her cries
Where there was a simple breeze.

Regret burns in me, for it sees
Unrequited love die in time
Of the falling red and orange leaves
And the stillness where there was once a simple breeze.

Mia Farinelli
Age 17, Grade 11
Horace Mann School
Gold Key

Leave a Reply