Brown

Brown is such a timid, shy colour. Hesitant; the "in-betweener" of the dark noble black, and the rough (annoying) yet vibrant orange. It is a careful colour, if you would say, and slow and thoughtful. Most people associate brown as the colour of dirty mud; unclean things, or the colour of deep chocolate. To me, each colour has its own personality, and I would say that brown (as mousy brown) would be like the girl who wears thick glasses who sits at the back of the class, scribbling down notes and who barely utters a word. Or brown would be the boy who spends every lunch in the library, preferring books to people. Brown would be the sort of person who is careful with what they say. 

I got inspired by this colour we call brown. I hope you enjoy it. 

Children walking with their mothers

Hands knotted so no one would stray

I’m always reminding others

You be careful of what you say

Looking ahead I catch his eye

Can’t bear it so I look away

As I felt we both heave a sigh

You be careful of what you say

I open my mouth as words flow

The words get caught and so they stay

Why they did I will never know

You be careful of what you say

Like beads strung on a string they lie

Colorful beads, a wide array

One bead slips and they start to fly

You be careful of what you say

A river fierce and tumbling

Stronger than the sea’s salty spray

First it started with mumbling

You be careful of what you say

I feel a pounding in my head

What I’m seeing just starts to sway

I’m walking upon a thin thread

You be careful of what you say

The tick and the tock of the clocks

I know that later I will pay

As the key turns and it unlocks

You be careful of what you say

I wasn’t thinking – give me time

Sorry that it’s gonna delay

Time is precious it’s just sublime

You be careful of what you say

My mind is but a worn machine

Used to much; coated in decay

I’m tightly caught just in between

You be careful of what you say

The answer awaits with a plea

Inside my mouth it must not stay

Now it’s them who’s reminding me:

You be careful of what you say.

http://i74.photobucket.com/albums/i267/mikey_arts2/BrownLeavesLR.jpg

Orange

Orange.
It's quite true that everyone has different connotations of every colour:
Blue - serenity, calm, relaxation.
Red - anger, hatred, impatience.
Yellow - sunshine, love, passion.
Black - disappointment, hope, emptiness.
Green - luck, life, nature.
White - purity, naivety, cleanliness.

And, there's orange.

Orange - 3 a bright reddish-yellow color like that of the skin of a ripe orange.

That's the dictionary's meaning. For me, orange is: 

Annoying, separation, a temptation to hit something, headaches, pains, heartaches. 

Here is another poem that I wrote during the days when orange was the colour that haunted me day and night; a Jack 'O' lantern that lights up in the night promising death and sadness. 

Two peas in a pod

That’s what we were.

But hey look now – it’s so just odd

As if time passed by in a blur.

Was it my fault?

Or was it because you grew

bored and came to a halt?

Words exchanged so few

these days, what’s wrong?

My heart’s grown smaller

When the days stretch long

I don’t have the strength to holler

And reveal my sorrow

That has been building up

Everyday to the morrow

Spilling to the top of the cup

My sorrow drips and drops

Like my salty tears I blink

So delicate like a bubble pop

With every spillage my soul shrinks

Till nothing is left but a seed

Planted from the very start

Before it was taken to bleed

With the hollowness of my heart,

I miss those times, I really do

I miss the laughter, the felicity.

Maybe you wanted something new

Or it was for the sake of simplicity.

But memories are hard to rid of

No eraser can rub them away.

I feel like you’ve given me a shove

To fall down and leave me to decay

While you’re safe up there with her

The better and newer and funny one -

There all along waiting for it to occur

Waiting for me to trip and run.

I’m like an old useless doll

Ragged and dirty – to be tossed

Just another fly on the wall

Doesn’t matter if I get lost.

Two peas in a pod

That’s what we were

But hey look now- it’s just so odd

As if time passed by in a blur.

Was it my fault?

Or was it because you grew

bored and came to a halt?

http://archecolour.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/orange-paint-on-brush.jpg