The Radiant Glow of Orange
A Poetic Tribute to the Warmest Hue
In fields of green, a fruit does grow
That warms the soul with its radiant glow
With skin so smooth, a shade so bright
It's a hue that brings the world to light
Oh, orange, how you brighten up the day
A color that always knows the way
To lift our spirits and warm our hearts
As the sun sets and the day departs
You bring a freshness to the air
A scent that's sweet and oh so fair
Your tangy taste is a delight
A flavor that's truly out of sight
From the juiciest of oranges, we squeeze
A drink that's sure to please
As we toast to life and all its joys
Our hearts fill with warmth and bright orange poise
So here's to you, oh radiant hue
A color that is always true
To bring us light and lift us high
As we watch the world pass by.
About the Creator
Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing him—no, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying won’t change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didn’t break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanovaabout 21 hours ago in Poets
Why Black History Matters in America?
The United States of America is celebrating their 250th anniversary in 2026. I'm proud to be an American and as someone who was born here, I wouldn't imagine myself living anywhere else. This is a country where opportunities are possible. Where anyone can be successful in anything they desire to do. Equality, community, and togetherness are the backbones of what America is and should be about. However, we have an administration who wants to erase and disregard those who have made positive, meaningful impacts in our country, specifically Black figures, such as Martin Luther King, Jr., Rosa Parks, and Maya Angelou. President Trump and his administration have been constantly complaining and fighting against what they call the "Woke agenda". They use this excuse as a distraction from other issues they refuse to address, such as the high cost of living, climate change, and inflation. That equality is dividing America, when in reality, it's bringing us together. Being woke is not tied to a specific political party. No matter where you stand on the political spectrum, you can still care about other people and their plights. Compassion and empathy for others isn't tied to a political party, either. We were taught as children to treat others the way we want to be treated and not judge others because they're different from us. Caring about others isn't a personal attack on your beliefs. It doesn't make you any less of a person. People who are easily offended over African American figures, past or present, or anything related to it, are grasping at straws. Current and future generations need to know who people like Harriet Tubman and Shirley Chisholm were, especially in the classroom. Black History is part of American History. It should be recognized, not hidden or forgotten. Besides, you can't shield children from everything, just because your feelings are easily hurt.
By Mark Wesley Pritchard 7 days ago in The Swamp
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