She popped her lips and stared into the mirror. Everything was ok except her hollow eyes and pale skin – like she had been in a bunker for the winter and had just re-emerged. Maybe the lips would distract from her deathmask.
I picked up the magenta crayon and carefully shaded in the girl’s skirt. “What do you think?” I asked when I finished, turning to Mommy.
“Wow, sweetie! That looks so great! Is that girl supposed to be you?”
I nodded and beamed with pride.
The colour reverberates. It draws you in, almost magnetic. You can’t pull away. It’s addictive, but nothing like a drug. It’s dark but vibrant. Magnetic magenta
The magenta cat followed me through the dark place of Wistburry palace. The old woman, who says that she lives there, followed me as well. They both showed me the magic and beauty of the place. U was shocked and surprised by this. The cat, and woman both showed me beauty.
It was a long time ago, when the waves first crested at the zenith of the ocean, that she was born. She, who walked in beauty, who danced wreathed in the glory of blue and orange mists, purple-pink sunrise – she, goddess of love, holder of a thousand fragments. A pearl, arms wreathed in sea foam, scarlet threads in her grasp.
Magenta. A colour. Not one I’ve given much thought to since the end of my Blue’s Clues days. It amazes me that we believe a rainbow to be inclusive of every person, yet it excludes far more colours than it presents.
Magenta. Magenta is one of my favorite colors, but then again I have a lot of favorite colors. I never was able to choose just one color, which shows how indecisive I am. I can never just choose one. I’m selfish and greedy, so I have to have more. Then again, a lot of the human race is greedy. I shouldn’t be too surprised.
Sam nodded with a peaceful smile as she pulled out what appeared to be a magenta waistcoat from the bargain rack. As she slipped her arms through the sleeves, she transformed from the seventeen-year-old chemistry genius that Arthur knew to a divine, regal looking specimen. She could almost leap onto a white stallion, snatch a beautiful sword, and gallop off to save a princess.
It’s the faded pink flower petal falling, peeling off the rose. Or the paint from a chipping bathroom wall of a girls’ bathroom. It tries to soothe and fails miserably, it’s desperate high heels and smudged lipstick.
Magenta was a character on Blue’s Clues. I used to sit by the T.V admiring the characters and laughing, my messy hair and little feet. Everything was so simple. The biggest arguments was over who was taller in kindergarten. Everything was peaceful and cute and wonderful.
magenta is a bright and cheerful cold with undertones of passion and darkness. a juxtaposition of femininity and sexuality. makes me think of salsa dancing and ripe fruit spicy and sweet
A beautiful colour, very strange and mysterious and I’m only doing this to try out this website for my students, so yeah, whatever, I like it, hope it works, a minute is actually quite a long time, oh yeah, enough.
everything you touch turns magenta,
it’s glorious.
flowers bloom in the instant and
the sky begins to show the beginnings of a sunset.
all from one touch,
all for you.
Suppose my blood was
magenta
and yours still a
deep red, how
different would
that make
us? Would you
still shy your eyes
away from mine,
and would
you still let
me go? (I don’t
think I’m human
either.)
It was much brighter on the wall than it had been in the paint can. And if she was being honest, it was too garish, and a mistake. But that’s what Peter had said even before it was on the wall, and she wasn’t going to let him know that he had been right. It should’ve been easy to just admit that she was wrong, but she’d been married to him for too long to give up on something that was sure to haunt her for years to come.
the first thing this word makes me think of is this one lyrical line i thik its from kaddisly he says something about another color describing something an then says bellds magneta. not my favorite color but oh well. i wish i had gotten a better word not just a color its too open ended. i don’t want to own anything ma
like from blue’s clue, it’s pretty great show. i miss steve. it’s also an amazing color. man i grew up on that show. my little cousin died. that seems random but he loved blue’s clues and so did i and it was amazing and i really miss him there’s a picture of him on the desk that this computer that i’m using is on. i miss a lot of people. i’m so lonely lately. everything is depressing. even magenta
Magenta. What a strange word. It is rare in nature and anything that color is valued. Even the paint is hard to manufacturer. It’s a wonder why monarchs didn’t have that as the royal color.
in a world of grays and browns in breaths filled with exhaustion and fear and a need to relieve the tension that’s exactly what i find with you nothing’s dull nothing hurts no unknown no loss for words no lack of heart where dancing is normal and laughs come easy never embarrassed never worried always better than the last always… friends.
Her magenta dress flowed like water over her skin as she walked slowly down the aisle. All the peoples’ eyes were upon her; she was their princess, their hope. She smiled at them all in turn, giving them as much strength as she could with her eyes. Today would not be easy.
She was colour-blind. The teachers didn’t know that, yet – her family, who wasn’t around much, wasn’t aware either. The teacher lady had asked the children to draw about what they wanted to be when they grew up – and she wanted to be just like the gardener, Mr. Bobby, because he got to play with pretty flowers all day and was always smiling and was the happiest person she knew. So she drew him, with his giant scissors, all green because of the plants he cut, as were his overalls and hands and smiled when she thought of how Mr. Bobby smelled like cut grass all the time. She didn’t know that she had picked the crayon named “magenta” instead of the crayon “light green”, and on her paper the teacher saw a bearded man, smiling a wide smile, with giant scissors dripping with pink-red blood, with blood on his knuckles and clothes and all over the floor – and the teacher forced a strained smile and made a mental note to have a talk with her parents.
The color of her dress was magenta. That was the one detail that stuck out the day that she left me. There were words, I think, words that were part of arguments…there were tears…and shouting…and pounding…all of that is hazy to me. But now, every time I think of her, shearing, almost painful magenta rapidly expands in my mind, giving me a headache.
Watching the last streaks pf the sun across a now magenta sky, I couldn’t help but feel at peace. Despite everything that had happened since the sun had risen, It had been a beautiful day, now turning into a beautiful night.
It was strange, how peaceful the world still seemed, even after all I’d been through in the last few candle marks. I chuckled. Maybe that’s it’s way of keeping us humble.
purple paradise, beautiful color clothes, flowers and mylar balloons, tatatatata…shiny colors in the sky, lovely iridescent birds flying in the sky. Magic colors shooting from the end of an elf’s sword.
I have a certain kind of affection for your eyes in the morning. Like dusk; half open, half alive. Half moons. They steal my breath away – those crystalline pinks and slivers of icy blue in your sleepy irises. I wish to wake up to them every day.
“I don’t know what magenta is,”
He told me yesterday,
“I’m afraid it won’t match, Miss,
I don’t know what magenta is.”
“It’s the color of a kiss,”
I told him, “Or the day
In which we both found happiness
And that is what magenta is.”
there was a slight hue of mauve in it,
something of the sky.
and the petals of the magnolia tree
were the most beautiful thing
i had ever seen on a brown, unseemly trunk.
they shone under the moonlight,
they glowed as the sun rose,
they were ablaze when it sank again.
as i devoured its appearance, night and day,
not moving, not shifting my eyes from this eternal, ephemeral belle.
magenta is pink it represents love, passion, and femininity.
She popped her lips and stared into the mirror. Everything was ok except her hollow eyes and pale skin – like she had been in a bunker for the winter and had just re-emerged. Maybe the lips would distract from her deathmask.
I picked up the magenta crayon and carefully shaded in the girl’s skirt. “What do you think?” I asked when I finished, turning to Mommy.
“Wow, sweetie! That looks so great! Is that girl supposed to be you?”
I nodded and beamed with pride.
The colour reverberates. It draws you in, almost magnetic. You can’t pull away. It’s addictive, but nothing like a drug. It’s dark but vibrant. Magnetic magenta
folding chairs fought hidden worlds
emoticons met spies
monolog with hands on hips
“you know she isn’t real”
years ago I wore a crown
and you called me a liar
but the first time I believed it
was when I threw that bright pink chair away
The magenta cat followed me through the dark place of Wistburry palace. The old woman, who says that she lives there, followed me as well. They both showed me the magic and beauty of the place. U was shocked and surprised by this. The cat, and woman both showed me beauty.
It was a long time ago, when the waves first crested at the zenith of the ocean, that she was born. She, who walked in beauty, who danced wreathed in the glory of blue and orange mists, purple-pink sunrise – she, goddess of love, holder of a thousand fragments. A pearl, arms wreathed in sea foam, scarlet threads in her grasp.
Magenta. A colour. Not one I’ve given much thought to since the end of my Blue’s Clues days. It amazes me that we believe a rainbow to be inclusive of every person, yet it excludes far more colours than it presents.
I had a heated discussion with my friend about whether magenta is the same color
As fuchsia. I said yes, she said no. What o you think?
Magenta reminds me of “a magnet.” That’s an anagram! Which reminds me of An Abundance of Katherines. I need to finish that book soon.
There was an article about a giant magnet in Times that I read today. It had to do with the discovery of dark matter. Pretty cool.
Magenta. Magenta is one of my favorite colors, but then again I have a lot of favorite colors. I never was able to choose just one color, which shows how indecisive I am. I can never just choose one. I’m selfish and greedy, so I have to have more. Then again, a lot of the human race is greedy. I shouldn’t be too surprised.
“You’re going to go for that?”
Sam nodded with a peaceful smile as she pulled out what appeared to be a magenta waistcoat from the bargain rack. As she slipped her arms through the sleeves, she transformed from the seventeen-year-old chemistry genius that Arthur knew to a divine, regal looking specimen. She could almost leap onto a white stallion, snatch a beautiful sword, and gallop off to save a princess.
It’s the faded pink flower petal falling, peeling off the rose. Or the paint from a chipping bathroom wall of a girls’ bathroom. It tries to soothe and fails miserably, it’s desperate high heels and smudged lipstick.
Magenta was a character on Blue’s Clues. I used to sit by the T.V admiring the characters and laughing, my messy hair and little feet. Everything was so simple. The biggest arguments was over who was taller in kindergarten. Everything was peaceful and cute and wonderful.
magenta is a bright and cheerful cold with undertones of passion and darkness. a juxtaposition of femininity and sexuality. makes me think of salsa dancing and ripe fruit spicy and sweet
What is magenta? Is it a colour? Which colour? Who knows? I don’t… MAGENTA huh? Indeed…
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A beautiful colour, very strange and mysterious and I’m only doing this to try out this website for my students, so yeah, whatever, I like it, hope it works, a minute is actually quite a long time, oh yeah, enough.
everything you touch turns magenta,
it’s glorious.
flowers bloom in the instant and
the sky begins to show the beginnings of a sunset.
all from one touch,
all for you.
Suppose my blood was
magenta
and yours still a
deep red, how
different would
that make
us? Would you
still shy your eyes
away from mine,
and would
you still let
me go? (I don’t
think I’m human
either.)
-a.d.r.
It was much brighter on the wall than it had been in the paint can. And if she was being honest, it was too garish, and a mistake. But that’s what Peter had said even before it was on the wall, and she wasn’t going to let him know that he had been right. It should’ve been easy to just admit that she was wrong, but she’d been married to him for too long to give up on something that was sure to haunt her for years to come.
the first thing this word makes me think of is this one lyrical line i thik its from kaddisly he says something about another color describing something an then says bellds magneta. not my favorite color but oh well. i wish i had gotten a better word not just a color its too open ended. i don’t want to own anything ma
like from blue’s clue, it’s pretty great show. i miss steve. it’s also an amazing color. man i grew up on that show. my little cousin died. that seems random but he loved blue’s clues and so did i and it was amazing and i really miss him there’s a picture of him on the desk that this computer that i’m using is on. i miss a lot of people. i’m so lonely lately. everything is depressing. even magenta
the soft hues of the sunset all seem to blend together. magenta was the color that the sky faded into dark
Magenta. What a strange word. It is rare in nature and anything that color is valued. Even the paint is hard to manufacturer. It’s a wonder why monarchs didn’t have that as the royal color.
in a world of grays and browns in breaths filled with exhaustion and fear and a need to relieve the tension that’s exactly what i find with you nothing’s dull nothing hurts no unknown no loss for words no lack of heart where dancing is normal and laughs come easy never embarrassed never worried always better than the last always… friends.
Her magenta dress flowed like water over her skin as she walked slowly down the aisle. All the peoples’ eyes were upon her; she was their princess, their hope. She smiled at them all in turn, giving them as much strength as she could with her eyes. Today would not be easy.
Her teacher was highly disturbed.
She was colour-blind. The teachers didn’t know that, yet – her family, who wasn’t around much, wasn’t aware either. The teacher lady had asked the children to draw about what they wanted to be when they grew up – and she wanted to be just like the gardener, Mr. Bobby, because he got to play with pretty flowers all day and was always smiling and was the happiest person she knew. So she drew him, with his giant scissors, all green because of the plants he cut, as were his overalls and hands and smiled when she thought of how Mr. Bobby smelled like cut grass all the time. She didn’t know that she had picked the crayon named “magenta” instead of the crayon “light green”, and on her paper the teacher saw a bearded man, smiling a wide smile, with giant scissors dripping with pink-red blood, with blood on his knuckles and clothes and all over the floor – and the teacher forced a strained smile and made a mental note to have a talk with her parents.
The color of her dress was magenta. That was the one detail that stuck out the day that she left me. There were words, I think, words that were part of arguments…there were tears…and shouting…and pounding…all of that is hazy to me. But now, every time I think of her, shearing, almost painful magenta rapidly expands in my mind, giving me a headache.
I am dead inside.My blood runs magneta as it floods from my arms.I am dead inside.
Watching the last streaks pf the sun across a now magenta sky, I couldn’t help but feel at peace. Despite everything that had happened since the sun had risen, It had been a beautiful day, now turning into a beautiful night.
It was strange, how peaceful the world still seemed, even after all I’d been through in the last few candle marks. I chuckled. Maybe that’s it’s way of keeping us humble.
purple paradise, beautiful color clothes, flowers and mylar balloons, tatatatata…shiny colors in the sky, lovely iridescent birds flying in the sky. Magic colors shooting from the end of an elf’s sword.
Things that can be magenta: a dress, a crayon, a hat, awesome jeans (for awesome people only)
I have a certain kind of affection for your eyes in the morning. Like dusk; half open, half alive. Half moons. They steal my breath away – those crystalline pinks and slivers of icy blue in your sleepy irises. I wish to wake up to them every day.
the color that has pink in it. i enjoy seeing this color especially during deepening twilight.
This is the color of her eyes. She seemed to be godly and yet so frail at the same time. The reddish glow pulls me in and suddenly I’m gone.
magenta marigolds and
musty mushrooms
growing under a thick canopy
kissed by sunlight scantily
“I don’t know what magenta is,”
He told me yesterday,
“I’m afraid it won’t match, Miss,
I don’t know what magenta is.”
“It’s the color of a kiss,”
I told him, “Or the day
In which we both found happiness
And that is what magenta is.”
there was a slight hue of mauve in it,
something of the sky.
and the petals of the magnolia tree
were the most beautiful thing
i had ever seen on a brown, unseemly trunk.
they shone under the moonlight,
they glowed as the sun rose,
they were ablaze when it sank again.
as i devoured its appearance, night and day,
not moving, not shifting my eyes from this eternal, ephemeral belle.
Magenta polenta: use beet juice.
Stir it in towards the end.
Pretend like you’re a kid again.
Grin and dig in.