Dyed Poems - Poems about Dyed

I have been called a hippy dippy; Transient, I travel when I can, to me mellow flow is so groovy; Traveling from city to city, that flower child who lives in a van; I have been called a hippy dippy; My spirit’s always been a gypsy; With a tie dyed hand sign it began, to me mellow flow is so groovy; Cliche’ but I’m...

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Beguiled risks sensitive alterations that redesigned unknots and cutup trice as the fresh teases through the looking glass exposing timepiece resemblance glossed spilled. Bemused forgives absence, mindful at hand, tenuously gripping the rolled spent yarn that edges fingertips loosely as threads answer questionable finds, stitch-by-stitch. Period accentuates the sensed thence for the bestilled entangled narrative plots exclamation points of those foregone chapters ... period midst frames...

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I see you ‘cross the vast expanse, a love disguised in dreamy whirl and clothed in raiment sun-spun gold as wispy cirrus wraps your dance the music of your sigh aswirl - a breeze I feel but cannot hold, but dance I will with memories though for your arms I’ll ever pine, I look to skies for bluest eyes at times behind the...

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I dyed my hair red now he’s dying for me the flames leaping no shame no shame he is wide-eyed puppy-tailed i’ll lead him by the leash release him release me can you see us on the front cover of a trashy romance i dyed my hair red oh the flames be flying I’m swatting him away the grays no-mattering it’s a crying shame we must grow old oh the boldness the brave we’re not dead yet only...

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Grandma loved the Christmas scene She even dyed her hair bright green And though her bones did surely ache She somehow found the strength to bake Her cookies, sweets and cakes of fruit ...

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Dyed-In-the-Wool! Stains there in your palms, wallowing, ling'ring, Metamorphosed into tears and so drips, Tainting where they plunge, and you're unsullied? 19:03:12:08:52 Ancestor. Ancestral Pen. Ancestral Form. Dyed-in-the-wool...

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a dyed flower is like a simulated gemstone they are unnatural, unfounded, rather orchestrated, unnaturally pretty, prettier than the natural flowers and the natural gemstones people are sometimes like this, unnatural, unfounded, rather orchestrated, prettier than the natural people. They are real, just in a better way, easier to appreciate and love...

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The Moon She glares from the ebon Halls, As the sea stretches too taste Her galls, The Candelabra dyed as magick stole its pore, Starry night blackened as She sinks to the core, The Sol it shone from the crimson sea Like an awl stuck in a forsaken tree... Dead leaves rustle on its rooted lawn, Wolves grow silent on this lonesome...

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the world watches Holmes sit “dazed” in the courtroom, with each mainstream media monolith churning out the sound bites referencing his eyes & his red hair--- the picture that goes viral is of course the one that can be likened most to something out of Heath-Ledger-as-The- Joker-101, visually answering questions for the people at home, because we all know that individuals who dye their hair red are megalomaniacs who will more...

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It has to be deeply personal, you said As if the sun is not so Nor the moon As if the verdant lane Fenced in by memories of you and me And the lonely jackal on distant moor Are enough to create human mystery When through shimmering haze the moon is full The web is shut, the famous mistletoe has dripped its cool, A...

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E...Eggs dyed pretty colors in baskets A...All nestled in pastel artificial S...Synthetic grasses, waiting the time T...To be hidden, then found again, yea! E...Easter's meaning disguised ..what's needed R...Redemption, salvation at the Cross...

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There’s nowt so canny and nowt so deep As the musings of the highland sheep They’ll talk of this and talk of that Of what they ate and where they shat Or ponder on life’s mysteries Like, is the grass beneath the trees Much finer than the one that grows Down beside the old hedgerows © John W Fenn...

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The smog induced haze bled acid . . NEON a tie-dyed Orange ...

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A heart dyed deep in blackness, whistled As the kettle boiling, So shrill beyond the bedroom door Like turbines pumping, toiling; Screaming like a rusty hinge, caked In need of oiling, For in it’s gangrene seepage Stained the sheets with angst and soiling. A heart dyed deep in blackness, hungered Feral jaws in essence, Alive with worms and ravaged cells, Of darkest incandescence; Yawning vaults of hatred,...

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