Amber green

And bottle tops,

The silence of night falls;

Blueish red

With angels’ tongues,

Plus stooped in words of fools

That tone of voice

A man might speak,

Or Nightingale sing,

For pennies that fall from the sky;

The carbon in a ring

Potato white,

Ash-wintertime,

Forgetting streets of rouge;

Chocolate orange,

Think nylon strings,

A seaside ‘painted luge’

Seven bicycles,

With fifteen wheels,

And orange far-fetched drivers,

For rainbows springing from the sea;

The breath of deep-sea divers

Friendship pink

And tail of sphinx,

While the meadows run;

Island yellow,

Canaries are free,

So down lazes the son

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Well there! Wargle on up and bump us a poem, won't you? It mustn't make a lot of sense or your swimming in the wrong bowl of jello.

This is a challenge.

I challenge you.

Write one!

Fog-the-Cat

updated Aug 18 '09 by FogCat