Fall leaves, fall; die flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow
Blossom where the rose should grow;
I shall sing when nights' decay
Ushers in a drearier day.
       "Fall leaves Fall" by Emily Bronte

Greece and her foundations are
Built below the tide of war,
Based on the crystalline sea
Of thought and its eternity.
       Preface to The Greek Way by Edith Hamilton

They seek him here,
They seek him there,
Those Frenchies seek him everywhere
Is he in heaven or is he in hell?
That damned elusive Pimpernel.
      "The Scarlet Pimpernel" by Baroness Emma Orczy

We lived long together
a life filled,
if you will,
with flowers. So that
I was cheered
when I came first to know
that there were flowers also
in hell.
     From "Asphodel, That Greeny Flower," by William Carlos Williams

Roses red and roses white
Plucked I for my love's delight.
She would none of all my posies—
Bade me gather her blue roses.

Half the world I wandered through,
Seeking where such flowers grew.
Half the world unto my quest
Answered me with laughs and just.

Home I came at wintertide,
But my silly love had died
Seeking with her latest breath
Roses from the arms of Death.

I may be beyond the grave
She shall find what she would have.
Mine was but an idle quest—

Roses white and red are best!
     "Blue Roses" by Rudyard Kipling

Blue rose up, up,up
From the bottomless sea
Blue fell from the clear blue sky
Down, down, down
Onto me.

Fused into a rose
That was as blue
As I chose
It to be.
      By Timothy McCoy

Black at the center
Obvious in winter.
Coal-hearted,
Fire-started,
Melting the sand
Into forms that will stand
As the black glass rose
So dark and so cold.
      By Timothy McCoy

The beginning of a new stage of life implies the death of the old one. The black rose can represent death/mourning or alternatively rebirth/rejuvention.

You claim my thoughts
Though you have never seen your name in frost.
I think the window of a distant train
Still mirror you like a poem in its glass.
      From  "A Word and a Flower" by Sandra Fowler

Remember when
We were Vikings
Ice in our eyes
Flying on memories
Crystal mornings
Our playgrounds
Echoing breaths
Those lovely sounds
On the cracking water
Treading the waves
Limbs to strong
Dancing on hot feet
Under aurora lights
Help me remember
These wild flights
      "Remember When" by Ruza Matic

Death is great.
We are in its grip
Even in our mirth.
When we seem to taste life to the full
Death is there within us 
And dares to weep.
      "Death is Great" by Ranier Maria Rilke in Das Buch der Bilder

The star wept pink in the heart of your ears
The infinite rolled white from nape of your neck to the middle of your back
The sea rippled russet to your rosy nipples
And man bled black in your sovereign womb
      By Arthur Rimbaud

The painting, "The Talisman" (a landscape of the Bois d'Amour at Pont-Aven) by Paul Serusier signaled a revolution in the use of color. Instead of mixing colors in the pursuit of a "realistically" perceived nature, this landscape employed pure colors in order to present the "equivalent" of a received sensation. This break between color and nature led to the Synthetist Movement which featured a "flat surface covered with colors."

The five colors will blind a man's sight.
The five sounds will deaden a man's hearing.
The five tastes will spoil a man's palate.
Chasing and hunting will drive a man wild.
Things hard to get will do harm to a man's conduct.
Therefore the sage makes provision for the stomach
     and not for the eye.
          Tao Te Ching, No. 12, trans. by Ch'u Ta-Kao, Buddhist Society, London

Zenrin poem:

The shattered mirror will reflect no more;
The fallen flower will hardly rise to the branch.

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing 
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
       From "Buriel of the Dead" by T. S. Eliot

The valley spirit is not dead
They say it is the mystic female
Her gateway is, they say,
The base of earth and heaven.
          Tao Te Ching, No. 6, trans. R. B. Blakney

Comment: The great wisdom of the old ones survives in the hidden valleys. It prefers to withdraw instead of being in constant strife. So one should be receptive to the ways of nature instead of trying to conquer her.

Red is deep anger that never comes out
Red is believing, and then having doubt.
Red reeks of revenge, of suffering and hate.
Red is being thirsty and having to wait.
Red, in a painting, makes one hot and confused,
It is the anger of crying when you feel you've been used.
Red is that voice, deep in your head, 
It could keep you back but pushes ahead.
...
Red is running through desert and sun,
It's needing a friend, but having none.
Red is the heart that's been broken in two,
It's hearing those lies, and wanting what's true.
      "Color Me Red" by Starr Williams

AND

Red is the sunset
Blazing and bright.
Red is feeling brave
With all of your might.
Red is a sunburn
A spot on your nose.
Sometimes red, is a red red rose.
...

Red is a show-off,
No doubt about it—
But can you imagine
Living without it?
      "What is Red" by Mary O'Neill

What's richest to him
That has made a great peacock
With the pride of his eye?
The wind beaten, stone grey,
And desolate Three Rock
Would nourish his whim
Live he or die
Amid wet rocks and heather,
His ghost will be gay
Adding feather to feather
For the pride of his eye.
     "The Peacock" by William Butler Yeats

"I intend to stand firm and let the peacocks multiply, for I am sure that, in the end, the last word will be theirs."
       Flannery O'Connor

"You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd."  
          Flannery O'Connor