United States

Formerly shatter-the-stars.

My name's A, pen name Asteria Stelcadente. I believe in God, so there you go. I'm wanting to be a CTI in the Navy, an author, and a baker. Life's short, right?

Message from Writer

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.


May 10, 2018


Red is a sunset,
Warming the summer air.
It is fighting at all hours,
Spilled liquid on the ground.

Red is poppies spreading across a field,
Petals soft as a hand strokes them.

Orange is a leaf falling to the ground,
Pumpkins sitting on porches,
Children laughing, saying
Trick or Treat!

Orange is baking pies for a holiday,
And saying thank you when it's needed.

Yellow is the sun beating down,
Browning backs and helping growth,
Bouncy balls in coin machines,
Highlighters marking up a page.

Yellow is sunflowers,
And a bow in a child's hair.

Green is leaves dappled with sunlight,
Smelling cut grass in the early morning,
Apples tossed into the air,
Grasshoppers jumping when a shadow passes.

Green is the ding as the cashier hands change,
Receipts rolling out, tearable paper.

Blue is a thunderous wave,
Crashing against a pale shore,
Wearing at stone and land,
Seeping through the cracks.

Blue is a pen signing a piece of parchment, 
A snowflake touching an uncovered nose.

Purple is amethyst in a crown, 
The rustle of a cape against the floor, 
A gilded throne in a stone room, 
Jewels weighing down a smooth collarbone. 

Purple is a rosary clasped in fingers, 
An old's man's words as they touch the air and fall. 

Black is eyes that come from fiery depths, 
An aristocrat's smile, 
Empty rooms of an abandoned home, 
Tears falling on a wooden floor. 

Black is a scythe held in skeletal fingers, 
A scepter held beside a throne.

Grey is pressing keys and forming words, 
Clouds coming in from a dark sky, 
A belt worn in a triangle, 
Eyes that hold only one emotion. 

Grey is a pencil's lead snapping on paper, 
Drawn rain with no umbrella. 
This is essentially what I would say if someone asked me what colors are.


See History
  • May 10, 2018 - 11:57am (Now Viewing)

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