The Planets

By Scott Bailey © 2013

The scarlet of fire
from a barrel
of a gun.
The scarlet of heat
from the blast
of a bomb.
The scarlet of rockets
arcing through
the air.
The scarlet of eyes
shot through
with fear.
The scarlet of fields
and memories of those
buried there.
The scarlet of blood
spilt without care
on brow and cheek.
This scarlet deep
so precious and deep
is of Mars.

The green of the forest
where animals play
without bounds.
The green of summer
and nature bursting
to be alive.
The green of shoots
born by birds
in clear skies.
The green of reeds
by river banks where
we sleep and dream.
The green of the sea
surrounding with safety
our precious land.
The green of fields
where people walk together
hand in hand.
This green so verdant
so desired and calm
is of Venus.

The silver of stars
darting here and there
with lightening speed.
The silver of water
tumbling in the sun
from land to land.
The silver of salt
crusted on the sails
bringing people close.
The silver of an aeroplane
shining in the air
letters written there.
The silver from the earth
delicately stretched and turned
wires spreading far.
The silver of a firework
broadcasting sparks of joy
to gathered friends.
This silver bright
wondrous and bright
is of Mercury.

The orange of sunrise
mighty and full of heart
bringing praise in singing.
The orange of a marigold
around which children dance
and parents’ hearts​ leap.
The orange of a drink
splashed down laughing throats
a thirst to quench.
The orange of a car
painted by a child
all wobbly and bright.
The orange of a paper
wrapped around a gift
unexpected surprise.
The orange of a mandarin
hanging in the tinsel
succulent and ripe.
This orange happy
bright and full of joy
is of Jupiter.

The yellow of an eye
weary, deep and wise,
heavy with rheum.
The yellow of a page
of a leather-bound book
heavy ancient tome.
The yellow of a contract
signed in years gone by
fulfilled with honour.
The yellow of a poster
faded in the sun
promises long forgotten.
The yellow of a leaf
discarded by the road
crumpled and dry.
The yellow of grass
scorched in the summer sun
toughened by the trial.
This yellow old
filled with wisdom and pain
is of Saturn.

The purple of a cloak
whose owner dazzles all
leaving them perplexed.
The purple of a cloth
on a table still
with artefacts old.
The purple of a box
with secrets held inside
only he may know.
The purple of a book
engraved with secret signs
full of ancient rites.
The purple of a smoke
that grants your heart’s desires
with forbidden fires.
The purple of time
between day and night
where fairies play.
This purple, magical
drenched with ancient lore
is of Uranus.

The blue of an evening sky
and strange signs in the air
for those who look.
The blue of pools
deep unchartered waters
with creatures strange.
The blue of visions
and misty wandering ghosts
speaking from the grave.
The blue of eyes
that hypnotise and gaze
into pasts unveiled.
The blue of lights
shining in the north
reflected in the ice.
The blue of sparks
floating in the air
in the woods.
this blue so mystical
beautifully unexplained
is of Neptune.

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

The Gulf

By Scott Bailey © 2013

The gulf between us grows and grows.
I wonder were we ever close?
Is it a myth we tell ourselves?
To give us false kudos. 

One looks on one with envy
the other with disdain
But neither can leave the contract
for nothing is to gain? 

Still the gulf grows wider
bridges tumble down
Yet the ties are tighter
Deeper runs the frown 

Round and round this story goes
Will it ever end
The futile fixing of a problem
That will never end 

So we have to ask ourselves
For richer? For poorer?

Image from Pixabay