#colour

562 posts
  • rupsa_in_wonderland 4d

    You are in love with an artist.
    Now, you would live in her
    Words and colours forever.

    ©rupsa_in_wonderland

  • rubleantony 4d

    Is justice ever reaching, to those needed?
    Will just protesting and candle marches, cure the unfortunate tragedy?

    This time it’s Zainab, last time it was some other name, and that’s the only thing changing, will the mindset of those ill people ever change?

    If steps are to be taken, who will implement them?

    Is proper education the only key, or teaching them the art of self defence?

    Pray that it stops!!! #JusticeforZainab

    ©rubleantony

  • rubleantony 4d

    And when she was amidst her greatest fears and worries!

    PRAYER & HOPE played it’s most beautiful game.


    ©rubleantony

  • _saket_ 1w

    And mirror tells true story.. all you have to do is ask..
    #mirror #me #truth #colour #life

    Read More

    Mirror

    Mirror o mirror,
    Show me my true color..
    I know its not white,
    cause I am living just human life..
    It won't be black,
    Cause I had moments when I smiled really bright..
    I just hope it's never the same,
    At each glance you will have something different to claim..

    ¶SA

  • boy_in_black 1w

    On that Rainy Night,
    I wept tears
    Down the slope.
    Surrounded by
    Darkness,
    All I needed was light,
    Of Hope.

    ©boy_in_black

  • saiban 1w

    Flying Dove, cotton fields, sparkling teeth, Dumbledore’s beard, winter snow and Khadi dress…..

    There is one thing in common… Any guesses???? You are correct… all of them are white…

    Why white is so special to me?  White is neutral color that contains an equal balance of all the colors, encompassing every aspect of all colors. Its basic feature is equality, fairness and it represents light.

    I recall my school days; white reminds me of Saturdays half day school, republic and Independence Day celebrations where we used to get chocolates and sweets. White reminds me of a chalk on a black board that took me through theworld of learning.

    As I grew up white added a different flavor to my intellect, a symbol of peace, harmony and discipline. I also learnt that in our national flag, white represents truth, peace and purity. It expects that one should be truthful, be peaceful with fellow humans and be pure in ones thought, word and deed. One person who stands out in mind is the lady in white…Mother Teresa… the symbol of humanity

    White is the color of new beginnings. Brides wear white to symbolize her new beginning into married life. In other cultures it is traditionally related to death and mourning. In these cultures death usually means the end of one life and the beginning of another, moving forward to a new life, so the new beginnings still holds.

    White is a versatile and right color. White symbolize peace, service, honesty and a new beginning.


    ©SB

  • demariah 1w

    Rainbow

    Who cares if I bleed rainbow
    and you bleed grey
    When all we should do is
    peacefully pass each other
    and go about our day?

    ©demariah

  • sanyukta 1w

    She hid preetiest of smiles behind the stern look which emerged only for special one's on the occasions that touched her heart and soul just like white colour splitting into beautiful rainbow on being passed through something worthy as prism !
    ©sanyukta

  • zaerah 1w

    White

    White never attracted me the way it did that day.
    In a huge crowd I saw you for the first time and my mind was blown away.
    I don't know which aspect of you I felt attracted to.
    May be it was the way you spoked to me
    or the way you tried to help or may be it was the colour you wored that day.
    Ever since when I see white,I feel the same way.
    White,Oh yes ! I am in love with it, love to see you that way.

  • rubleantony 1w

    And while we age together, through spring, summer and winter.

    I want our love to Everglow!

    ©rubleantony

  • mkandres 1w

    A World Beyond

    Ella trudged into Art class and took her seat. Art used to be fun. She loved doodling and painting. She adored creating on paper with pure imagination. Lately though, art in any form had become tedious and boring. How could sketching an apple be exciting? How could learning about the shape and length of a nose hone her skill?

    Mrs. Cole rapped her wooden yardstick on the tile floor. Ella blew a puff of air from her lungs. “Every afternoon,” she mumbled with a roll of her brown eyes.

    “We are living in an ever-shifting, ever-changing world,” the instructor began. “I want you to look into these and perhaps you will see what I mean.”

    A cylindrical tube was placed before each student. Ella looked around at her classmates. What? What was this? One by one each person brought the object up to his or her eye.

    Reluctantly, Ella followed suit. She grinned at the rich colors. The geometric shapes danced and morphed one into another. Shades of purple, blue and green offered a relaxing brilliance she had never known could be in existence.

    “Can someone describe to me what you are experiencing through your kaleidoscope right now?” Mrs. Cole asked.

    “It’s like a tapestry of crystals being born right in front of me,” a blonde girl named Leah gushed.

    “No, no, it’s more like a rainbow of peacock feathers with gems on them swirling around behind stained glass,” freckle-faced Lucas Atley yelled.

    “Mine looks like a bunch of fireflies wearing rhinestone outfits,” someone else hollered.

    Everyone laughed and began to speak at the same time, trying to outdo one another.

    Ella remained silent. Mrs. Cole noticed.

    “And Ella, can you tell me what you see?”

    Placing her kaleidoscope on her desk, Ella looked up. “I love art,” she announced. “To me, art is like a divine love that beckons us to a world beyond our reality. It is a world of our own creation and fantasy; a world of our own choosing. I see all that through this little tube – realities, fantasies and choices.”

    Murmurs rose and fell throughout the classroom.

    “Now I want you all to take what you’ve just seen and put it on paper. Make your audience realize his realities, fantasies and choices. Only a few can do that through stories, songs or art.”

    Ella was one of the few.

    --Melissa Andres
    ©mkandres

  • _infinity_isnt_enough_ 1w

    I tried to find love deep within my soul....
    But all I found was darkness.......


    ©_infinity_isnt_enough_

  • lone__soul 1w

    I too love a colour and that is the colour of LOVE

  • bluebird 1w

    INCIPIENT

    How often have you played with matchsticks? There are times when, the swollen bulb of the stick gets blunt after continuous dashing over the box. And then I usually throw the useless stick over the floor. Some of them do catch a spark but then; the matchstick blows off after a few seconds.It makes me wonder, whether it's good not to burn and be crushed under the feet of giant idiotics or simply burn away to blacken the fingers of the person who is holding you. Either ways, I'd remain useless.

    I was born cold. Frozen deep into the winter of yesterday, chiselled by the storms that often made me migrate. A cold pale block of ice stranded in the middle of nowhere. Did anyone try to melt me away? I don't remember if I had a sun behind me. Could I scream? Could I drift away? I was merely a block of ice. I couldn't.

    My birthdays have been normal like every other person would have. Yet the day doesn't surprise me at all. Nothing makes me wait to have grown another year; to set ablaze hearts by a benevolent smile. I wish there was a blanket to warm me when I was five. A storm hit my feet and knocked me down to the floor. The storm called 'father' who is everyone else's protector. I could never fathom the dark side of him; I couldn't imagine there was a tinge of black in him. I couldn't figure out why my mother cried and wailed and cursed him every once in a while. What wrong had he done? I never knew. But the day another layer of ice developed on me, bleeding dark spells, the storm dashed me on the floor and I remember my tears boiling from my own eyes; melted me over his carpet. Now I know what wrong he had done. He had become the wrong.

    ASPHYXIATION

    My eyes were the first sign of life to melt me away. Yet the water down my cheeks is boiling at times; and I can't bear the heat to be honest. The dark now scared me. I was still a child; an innocent being who had never seen what darkness was till I realised the dark resided in the storm from where I had arised. And then I took an initiative to face what was out of my home. Perhaps life was brighter outside.

    A couple of days at the pre school, and next every other day I used to stand on the stairs of the school from 8:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. and cry all day long. I never stepped into the classroom, I never had seen the faces of my classmates, I was hesitant. I never stepped into the school. The teachers used to ensure my mother that I'll be fine and with a heavy heart leaving in my cold hands she, used to leave me.
    Somehow every other day she got to know that I had cried all day long. By my eyes, she knew, I was freezing inside. The teachers used to lock me in the toilets of the school and there was a sense of pitch blackness. I don't know what I ever learnt there, but that altered my mind and my heart to a great extent. I don't have trust to smoke through me to give you. I can't hold your hand to the lands that you might have dreamed of. I don't trust you because I don't trust myself. I am still scared. If I see myself burning a light through the darkness that you lead me through, holding my hand, believe me, I'd be the first one to choke you with all the trust I have.

    RADIATION

    The winter inside me was calming every passing day. A welding equipment for filling the cavities of my soul was used by me. I fell in love with it and it turned me to a volcanic emulsion.

    I was in kindergarten, my admission in the school was a miracle. I wasn't a bright child as people think I really am. This girl with a 98% as people have tagged me was a literally dumb child who had no interest in books. I simply don't have those brains much needed to beat it. I wasn't and I ain't brilliance. Even my flames aren't brilliantly shining. Gradually my fear of collaborating my world with the outer world decreased. One day there was a race at school and I had to run as fast as I could. I had to reach the chair in my lane and finish the apple that I had brought. I ran like a squirrel and my loose skirt fell down and all the little devils laughed at me. I was a joke for the rest of the days. My mother said; it's alright, you're still a baby, but the baby was already abused twice in the past and letting go of the cloth even in front of myself was a nightmare I couldn't bear. A nightmare that I try to forget every once in a while. I have fallen in love with my obstacles and the wind blowing over my burnt soul as I run towards them and not away from them.

    A few years passed and I had been promoted to third standard. I didn't even know how to tie my laces and to be honest, I'm still not good at that. Tying my laces and tightening my skirt with a double check, I realised someone locked me from outside within the toilet. I'm claustrophobic. Especially to toilets. Till the time the little child in me figured out what was happening, the bully threw a bucket of dirty water over me. The maid did bring me back from hypothermia; an ailment I got from my mother, and asked me not to inform the incident to my mom. Apparently, my own aunt is a teacher at my school, so I was surprised, how do people dare to touch me?

    Students began believing every success I achieved or still achieve is because of her presence in the management. Doubt burnt me bitterly. How could they dare to doubt me?

    This doubt was incinerated by an introspective thought of my cousins and kin. The helplessness of not affording things I wished for. Calling me and my brother the poor kids; did they know the pain of having a father who is good at nothing but sleeping and eating our minds and souls; torturing our mental strengths the whole day? All he wanted was to get rid of his responsibilities. I was scared of him. Scared of my future. This was when my aunts interrupted through my furnace and made me what I am. "Filling your stomach on other's money and suppressed under your father's power; how does it feel Jasmine?" Was the second doubt upon me. This was when I decided, I'd make myself someone so independent; that people wouldn't dare to raise their tongues and voices against me. That I'd never depend on myself. I'd be devoid of my father's name. He'd never even dare to suppress me. That was when the silly kid took interest in books. The 'Chosen One' was chosen that day.

    CONDUCTION

    15 and still a child, I visited Aditya's home once again, and it was supposed to be the last time. After every fight we had, I wanted to resolve everything. A fire inside me was tingling a sense of a danger. It was provoking a widespread hazard inside. What it was, I didn't know.

    I entered his residence. I stepped into hell that day. Spending a few moments of splintered friendship and kin, suddenly his father came from behind and slapped him hard. A teeth of his did fall on the ground, a drop of blood did colour my face. His mother held my hand and dragged me inside, clenching my weak wrist, she slapped me hard. Even my mother doesn't hold her hand high against me to be a daughter; and she dared to that day. A pregnancy report had struck their home and yes, somehow they believed it was mine. How was it possible for a 15 year old; I don't know... Yet they should've known, I ain't like other girls.

    Strained under constant pressure I was bruised and had my rib almost broken when I calcinated from within and took hold of a fork laying on the dinner table to stab Uncle in his hand and holding it forward to protect myself. I asked AL to make everything clear, yet he blamed it upon me.

    Walking out of his home in a furious rage and a dilapidated state I was stopped by a hold on my hand and he told me how he wanted to save his sister from this situation and thus he blamed her deed on us. I broke every bit of myself left with him. This was the last I saw of him. This is the last I'd speak of him. Questioning a girl's virginity is the last thing you want to do.

    RAMONA

    A few days back; I wasn't well physically. For the first time I was concerned about my face; I looked ugly. Puking crimson blood and not being able to even pick up a glass of water, I saw fading shades of life.

    Preparing for my exams once again; the sun called out to me and after a long while I headed out to locate the warmth I was missing. The fuel that I needed to breathe. It felt... rejuvenating.

    A woman with her baby does stroll over in the public park and yes I do play with her infant in my arms. Yet she never talked to me before. Walking barefoot over grass once again, the cold feet felt the sun in green beneath.

    "Ramona! Ramona!!" Were the shouts. At first I didn't notice. Later I realised, she was calling out to me. I corrected her, "It's Jasmine."

    "You are Ramona. You look like her."
    "Who is she?"
    "Its a Spanish name for girls."
    "What is Ramona supposed to be like?" I laughed.
    "Your hair are exquisite and so are your eyes. They are just like Ramona."
    "Black hair and eyes? They are quite common."
    "What? No! Your hair aren't black. They are... extraordinary. The black ember shines with intensities, the fire makes it burn. Your eyes are ember; a black ember that shines as the sun peeks through them. I have not seen Ramona since I came to live here in India. I want to call you that. May I?"

    RAMONA... looking for what further meanings it hides, I fell in love with the name... I wish someone called me Ramona, for I have never been equivalent to the beauty of a Jasmine.

    Burning through my bowels I grow every day. Fuming inside a furnace I am EMBER. My skin shines with the scars coagulated since yesterday. I've decided to fuel the fire; I don't want to shiver by the winter of my own tears. I want my winter to be melted through them. For I don't stop my eyes from pouring. For my eyes were the first sign of life to melt me away.
    ©bluebird
    -------------------------------------------

    @charlie_ plagiarizing your click. *EVIL LAUGHS*

    #colour @writersnetwork

    Read More

    BURNING EMBER

    Blue is the bird.
    Ember I am.

  • writerpratik 1w

    Life has its own uncertain design,

    We just have to learn “How to colour it” by the colours we already have.

  • shashiinderjeet 1w

    Colour

    Surprise to know, the colour has religion

    Preachings have lost the values and it seems

    One has to follow the specific colour to identify ones religion

    ©shashiinderjeet

  • bel_gonzalez 1w

    They came looking for more of
    What now owns them
    And us.

    They desecrated our land;
    Our home and mother,
    With disbelief and contempt
    For a disparate way of life.

    They tore us from
    Our roots;
    Wrecking and burning
    Our future and
    Our history ;

    They took our voices and bodies
    And gave us their God
    And their language ;

    They called us "savages" and
    "animals" ;
    They called themselves
    Our saviors;

    They took over,
    Hungry for power and
    Made us second-class citizens.

    Their dogma is
    Engraved
    On our skin and in our names;
    The lack of it is now
    A shame...

    You;
    Child of Gondwana,
    Burning with turbid blood;
    Born from love
    And war;
    Disowned ;
    Native of stolen lands;

    Your pride and fortune are bigger than color
    And deeper than skin;
    Your soul is greater than any God
    And your heart is stronger than their division;

    They use shame and fear
    To weaken you;
    Unlock their shackles and
    Prevail.

    Own your mind,
    Own the present ;
    Be the future.
    ©bel_gonzalez

  • pratibhashet 1w

    Colour

    Different bond of colours
    we share with each other;
    But still the colour of love
    Bind us together forever.
    © Pratibha Shet

  • fmcstarr 1w

    Blue

    The color of my dad’s eyes,
    His blood shot tiresome eyes.
    The blue that you see in the sky’s.
    The blue that you see in in the ocean.
    Blue as in my favorite color next to red, which is love.
    Blue is my favorite color, it also means peace and tranquility.
    Blue is the color that brings me to you.
    Blue is the color that reveals in the morning to seize the day to meet daily matters.
    Blue is piercing in anger,
    Blue is charming in peace.


    ©fmcstarr

  • bepanaah 1w

    Color...love

    I love the color love,
    All colors are absorbed in love,
    The same color that nature lays on us,
    I think,the color is that you get scattered around you,
    Color is not what you pay attention to,

    -R.K.(raaj kumari)
    ©bepanaah