The Lover’s Almanac : Part One.

A List of "Beautiful" Words: Yellow

for your next poem/story

Aureate - of a golden color

Auric - of, relating to, or derived from gold

Aurify - to turn into gold

Bilious - a yellow or greenish fluid that is secreted by the liver

Citreous - of the color citron yellow

Flavescent - turning yellow; yellowish

Flaxen - resembling flax especially in pale soft strawy color

Fulvous - of a dull brownish yellow; tawny

Gild - to overlay with or as if with a thin covering of gold

Gilt - of the color of gold

Gold - a variable color averaging deep yellow

Icterus - yellowish pigmentation of the skin, tissues, and body fluids caused by the deposition of bile pigments; jaundice

Lutescent - yellowish

Luteous - yellow tinged with green or brown

Luteolous - slightly yellow; yellowish

Mustard - a dark to moderate yellow

Ochroid - resembling yellow ocher in color

Old gold - a dark yellow

Primrose yellow - a light to moderate yellow

Sallow - of a grayish greenish yellow color

Sandy - of a yellowish-gray color

Straw - of the color of straw: pale yellow in color

Topaz - a yellow sapphire or quartz

Xanthism - coloring (as of the skin or pelt) marked by a predominance of yellow pigments

Xanthochroism - abnormal coloration of feathers (as in some parrots) in which yellow replaces the normal color

More: Lists of Beautiful Words ⚜ Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Irish Spring

a raspy laugh, sharp as cheap soap a mind's movie on a honey-smacked whorl

How to create an atmosphere: Forest

Sight

tall trees with thick canopies of leaves

alternating light coming in through the moving leafs of the trees

ground covered with a mix of grass, ferns, and fallen leaves

wildflowers adding splashes of colour

animals like deer, boars, squirrels, birds

insects like butterflies and bees add movement and life to the scene

Hearing

the air is filled with the melodious songs of birds

gentle rustling of leaves as the wind moves through the trees

constant hum and buzz of insects

the soft crunch of leaves, twigs, and soil while walking through the forest

Touch

the spongy feel and the soft coolness of moss

the rough texture of tree bark

the cooler temperature in the forest

with a gentle breeze that can be felt on your skin

Smell

the smell of fresh grass

the rich, earthy smell of soil and decaying leaves

the scent of fresh leaves, pine needles, and blooming flowers

the smell of the clean, slightly damp scent of water and wet earth from a nearby stream or pond

Taste

the clean taste of fresh air

the taste of sweet and tangy wildberries

the taste of self-picked mushrooms

the taste of edible wildflowers

the taste of a variety of nuts

the taste of wild greens

More: How to create an atmosphere

Heavy

Nourishment

Between 183 and Liberty Church

The spot near the plastics plant,

Bare earth scooped neatly into mounds,

Preparations for a new recycling plant.

Skittering along the debris of a

Previously undisturbed wild,

Before my memories formed.

Eating hot pink clovers that tasted like

Sweet carrots, as mama said they would,

My little brother hopping in the lazy puddles.

This disturbed earth not a quarter mile

From my new home on the outskirts of town,

Our lot barely having grown it's beard of grass.

The newest children in my small neighborhood

(if there are any) Will never know this place

Apart from where their fathers might work

The spot between the 183 and Liberty Church

Where once was trees and clovers

Where once kids scrambled over piles of dirt

Where once all seemed well in the world

Where earliest memories were made

Staycation

Rooting through yellowed, dusty memories

Those of my grandmother's back yard,

The smell of sweet maple leaves

And the sting of late autumn

We made "potions" in my backyard,

Collected rocks from the stream

In the park, and amethystine bruises.

April, when the slush finally gave way

To the annihilated lawn, the mud warming

Bringing worms for fishing to the surface.

I remember when my brother lost his

Pink fishing rod to a monsterous carp

At the KOA campground pond,

How dad fished for it with his rod,

I can't remember if he got it back.

We never went fishing with him again.

I fold up my hippocampus and stow it neatly

In the chest from whence it came,

Closing up my ribs, I vow to discuss this

Experience with my therapist,

Cleaning off the dust of age,

Hoping his insight can interpret the

Dregs of this old cup.

It's never too late to start something new it's just waiting for you, poem of the day!