magenta is a family of purple. but magenta is really bright. It’s like the optimistic daughter of the family. the one who is naive but is still infinitely happy and cheery, Are you the magenta of your family?
Walking through antique shops and junk stalls looking for magenta coloured glass might be described as a hobby, but it for me it is painful. The two things I hate most are spending money and wasting time and by every definition this requires both. Normally I reduce shopping to a 15 minute dash around a store and the obligatory 20 minute wait at the checkouts. This is worse, I have bought nothing and will have to repeat the attempt next weekend.
Where do these strange colours come from? I took an art class in high school, and learned about the primary, secondary, and even tertiary colours. Who comes up with them? How do we make them? How are colours really even made? I can only wonder what other colours we’re missing out on… To think, there are infinitely more colours our brains can’t even fathom.
The color burned my eyes, this sultry pink-red almost purple. Or something.
I’d think of legally blond but that’s straight up pink. Magenta is more varied, a bit darker. So much analization goes into colors.
Magenta. A mysterious shade of red that tend to remind me of your lovely cheeks that blushes furiously when you’re embarrassed. Or rather, shy. That smile that accompanies your blushing cheeks, makes any photo with you worth taking.
the color of his breath was a sort of magenta. i watched it yet heard nothing he spoke. i cant remember the last time i allowed myself to become so captivated. the moment stroke so intensely that i couldn’t decide if it were he or i that
Magenta – the color of tropical flowers on bare sticks in the dry season, of my skin after a few hours on the beach, even with SPF 50 on (sweat-proof, waterproof, my sunburned ass!) the color of passion and anger and lust, and sweetness all rolled into one.
The room smelled of ancient moth balls and dust particles long sheltered in the corners of the house. Every piece of furniture had a thin cloth of white, covered by another layer of filth. The floorboards creaked, the windows shut, and the doorknobs jammed. There was no source of light; even the shutters have blocked out the gentle fingers of the sun.
In the farthest corner, obscured completely from human eyes with nothing but shadows hiding its features, a vanity set stood. The white cloth that protected it from the clutches of dust motes was long gone; it lay now on the wooden floor, almost camouflaged by the thick layer of filth on top of it.
The mirror, intriguingly, had a sheen of magenta — a shock of color amidst the bleakness and darkness of the room.
A step closer and it is seen that the mirror was just freshly painted with a deep, crimson layer of blood.
I used to be a T-Mobile subscriber, but when the iPhone 3G was released, I switched to AT&T. My first mobile phone was a Nokia “smart” phone. That tear-dropped shaped model. Had Bluetooth, a camera and everything.
Magenta world colliding sundered the universe in two, a speckled black paste filling the abyssal cracks. Shouldn’t have fallen, should have never been but forces of reality came to an untimely conclusion. Alteration caused the fact.
What a coincidence! Magenta is exactly the colour i have to replace. My printer is using all those colours way to fast. Still, the question is: What do i need Magenta for, if I just want to print black? Estupido!
there was a color, it´s name was magenta. ~she was very smart for her age, but the others kids didnt liked her. She knew how to speak and hoew to write, but she never had friends to play guessing words. but one day she found blue.
Her mood did not match the complex Victorian color scheme of the room. Everywhere sprawled heaps of magenta and mauve brocade, intricately magmatic Persian rugs, and honeyed drapes. She sat soaked in heat, but her heart hollowed for the supernal hues of midnight heavens and ice of oceans emptied upon open eyes.
“…You’re kidding,” Neku says flatly, as Joshua spins around in front of the mirror (It could only be worse if he were wearing a dress. Which Neku wouldn’t put past him, even now that the Game is over and they don’t need to watch what they wear.).
“What, you don’t think it’s my color?” Joshua asks, and casts him a look that’s halfway between a pout and an attempt at seduction- both of which Neku knows he could do better. The shirt is a few shades too red, and his sleeves billow ridiculously; paired with the neon yellow jeans, Joshua looks ridiculous. Even for Joshua.
Neku is unimpressed. “Dude, if you think either of those is your color, we need to get your eyes checked.” And what happened to his fashion sense? He was so high and mighty about it- worse than Shiki about putting down Neku’s choice of clothing. Even Neku can tell that this is a disaster.
“Then what is my color, Neku?” Joshua all but purrs, hand on his hip, and oh. Neku should have seen this coming.
“Your color is shut the fuck up,” Neku says, and makes to leave before his face turns as red as the shirt. He doesn’t even know why he came along in the first place; he already knew that shopping with Joshua- clothes shopping, especially- is worse than shopping with Shiki. And Shiki doesn’t feel the need to turn everything into some kind of flirtation that she may or may not mean.
“I can hear what you’re thinking, you know,” Joshua calls after him, snickering. “You’re right; I think I should try this in blue. And of course I mean it; what do you take me for?”
“I can answer that question if you want me to,” Neku says, and it’s not much of a threat.
Joshua laughs again. “I love you, too,” he says- and did he have to say it so loudly? Neku cringes, hopes no one was close enough to hear that.
“Call me when you’re done,” he says, and tries to find something in the store that will distract him enough to get the blush off his face.
Magenta is not a shy colour .It burst forth with boldness and thanks to our technologically charged world it has even entered the male vocabulary and forced them to see beyond the basic primary colours. Yes it holds a place of prominence on the computer” colour wheel”.
there’s a colour i like ot call blue, but i’t s not, it’s tinted beautifula nd starts with a m an dends with pretty, it looks like you my dear, magenta shines like your eyes and your smile combined in one. Magenta shines like love’s gone mad, although I suppose it was never sane to begin with. And so this story goes like many do,
The magistrate sits with airs wrapped in the vibrance of spring. Beauty of this sort is a sore digit amongst long paled bodies of workers, who could be happy if only they were dumb enough to think they could get out of this or smart enough to realize they could.
Honestly, the worst thing I can think about is trying to forget a woman. The smell of her, the way she caresses your neck with her fingers while you kiss, the look of her smile. It’s here I find myself, trying to forget those things and the color of her favorite lipstick: magenta.
it’s such a beautiful color, it’s lively and gorgeous. its like purple with a splash of red and maybe some blue. im not quite sure. it makes me think of blues girlfriend from blues clues. i never understood how blue was a girl it never really made sense to me and then magenta was a boy. i guess it was a diverse thing and a way to express acceptance of all genders.
Such a nice color. Such a nice sound. magenta. No need for capitals. It’s nice. magenta. It makes me calm. I don’t know much else to say. Just breathe.
what a beautiful garment, I thought, holding it up in the light. The stitching was even and the soft alpaca yarn made the shrug even more delicious to wear. The feeling of accomplishment was overwhelming as I pulled the shrug over my shoulders, lightly feeling the stitches under my fingers as the fabric pressed against my skin. I am so glad I made it.
whyever would someone invent a color name like that? it makes no sense to me. It brings no sight to my mind. By now I know what magenta sorta represents, but why not simply say purple? or have I managed to forget what magenta means? likely.
magenta is a color i really never think about. I’m not sure what things in my life are magenta. i wouldn’t mind bringing magenta into my life, change is always great. if i were to be crazy i would name my future daughter magenta.
Long ago, there was a family. A simple family. They had a child named Benjamin and from the time he was born, he spent his life wondering whether he would be something great, or something meek. Then, after a freak accident at a magnet polarizing plant, he became something else entirely: Magneta.
He looked up as she came in the room and instantly regretted it. He could not keep the color from rushing to his face. She stood in the doorway, adjusting something in her purse absentmindedly speaking softly to him, though he did not hear a word.
“What?” he asked, his voice rasped from staying silent too long.
Magenta. Magenta? Magenta. Sure. I can wear a magenta dress. That won’t be weird at all. It doesn’t fit my best friend’s theme, or her color scheme, or…anything. But this dress. This dress! This magenta dress. It was loud. It commanded attention. Not as much as her white one would, of course. A very tasteful loud.
It was from across the room that he saw it. It was basically an afront to his eyes. It was this bright hideous pink color that he couldn’t look away from and it was splattered all over some woman’s dress. He would come to find, after he took the courage to talk to her, that it was her favorite color, and that it would be present at their wedding, in their house, and sadly, the car that they shared. But he would grin and bear it, because he loved her, magenta and all.
The color slowly seeped into the floor, staining the wonderful blue rug a horrible pink color. She screamed in horror, leaping to try and save what color she could. The man, the one who had spilled the liquid across the floor, shrugged indifferently; pink was a color and he didn’t mind it on the rug.
Another day in their household.
He threw the slices of meat into the pot along with the peculiar magenta cubes of some kind of root vegetable. “The key is,” he explained loftily, “making sure the beets don’t get too mushy.”
STOP.
my eyes slowly move up from the ground,
you approach me.
in the calmest manner.
my face turns the reddest shade of purple.
you soul engulfs me.
and mine meets yours half way.
LOVE.
it eats away at me,
everyday of my life,
I cannot seem to get the thought out of my head.
EVER.
It haunts me.
I wake up to it.
I like to say that every single being of the opposite sex,
is my soul mate.
and my brain forces me to.
BELIEVE.
I search every square inch for love,
LITERALLY.
just the sweet dreams my mind takes me away to;
using my body and the feeling of love being there.
surrounding me and that one other soul-
ADDICTING.
I need more.
Magenta. Why do I think this color is for punks, or the extremely rich? I almost can’t stand to look at it, but then again, I can barely stand to look at anything right now.
it is a cool color and a famous color and everyone like this color and it a awesome fun
magenta is a family of purple. but magenta is really bright. It’s like the optimistic daughter of the family. the one who is naive but is still infinitely happy and cheery, Are you the magenta of your family?
Walking through antique shops and junk stalls looking for magenta coloured glass might be described as a hobby, but it for me it is painful. The two things I hate most are spending money and wasting time and by every definition this requires both. Normally I reduce shopping to a 15 minute dash around a store and the obligatory 20 minute wait at the checkouts. This is worse, I have bought nothing and will have to repeat the attempt next weekend.
Where do these strange colours come from? I took an art class in high school, and learned about the primary, secondary, and even tertiary colours. Who comes up with them? How do we make them? How are colours really even made? I can only wonder what other colours we’re missing out on… To think, there are infinitely more colours our brains can’t even fathom.
the color in my printer near pink – 7 letters one of 4 colors
The color burned my eyes, this sultry pink-red almost purple. Or something.
I’d think of legally blond but that’s straight up pink. Magenta is more varied, a bit darker. So much analization goes into colors.
Magenta. A mysterious shade of red that tend to remind me of your lovely cheeks that blushes furiously when you’re embarrassed. Or rather, shy. That smile that accompanies your blushing cheeks, makes any photo with you worth taking.
the color of his breath was a sort of magenta. i watched it yet heard nothing he spoke. i cant remember the last time i allowed myself to become so captivated. the moment stroke so intensely that i couldn’t decide if it were he or i that
Magenta – the color of tropical flowers on bare sticks in the dry season, of my skin after a few hours on the beach, even with SPF 50 on (sweat-proof, waterproof, my sunburned ass!) the color of passion and anger and lust, and sweetness all rolled into one.
Colors of reds of shades of hues. Magenta majestically fulfills these requirements. Indeed.
The room smelled of ancient moth balls and dust particles long sheltered in the corners of the house. Every piece of furniture had a thin cloth of white, covered by another layer of filth. The floorboards creaked, the windows shut, and the doorknobs jammed. There was no source of light; even the shutters have blocked out the gentle fingers of the sun.
In the farthest corner, obscured completely from human eyes with nothing but shadows hiding its features, a vanity set stood. The white cloth that protected it from the clutches of dust motes was long gone; it lay now on the wooden floor, almost camouflaged by the thick layer of filth on top of it.
The mirror, intriguingly, had a sheen of magenta — a shock of color amidst the bleakness and darkness of the room.
A step closer and it is seen that the mirror was just freshly painted with a deep, crimson layer of blood.
I used to be a T-Mobile subscriber, but when the iPhone 3G was released, I switched to AT&T. My first mobile phone was a Nokia “smart” phone. That tear-dropped shaped model. Had Bluetooth, a camera and everything.
colour which gives freshness to the eyes
The room was filled and alive with colors, but the one that impressed the judges was the magenta that overpowered all the others.
Magenta world colliding sundered the universe in two, a speckled black paste filling the abyssal cracks. Shouldn’t have fallen, should have never been but forces of reality came to an untimely conclusion. Alteration caused the fact.
What a coincidence! Magenta is exactly the colour i have to replace. My printer is using all those colours way to fast. Still, the question is: What do i need Magenta for, if I just want to print black? Estupido!
there was a color, it´s name was magenta. ~she was very smart for her age, but the others kids didnt liked her. She knew how to speak and hoew to write, but she never had friends to play guessing words. but one day she found blue.
Marveloous magenta morning dawning all around me. Changing from its profusion of purply pink to the gentle gold of dawn’s early light.
Her mood did not match the complex Victorian color scheme of the room. Everywhere sprawled heaps of magenta and mauve brocade, intricately magmatic Persian rugs, and honeyed drapes. She sat soaked in heat, but her heart hollowed for the supernal hues of midnight heavens and ice of oceans emptied upon open eyes.
“…You’re kidding,” Neku says flatly, as Joshua spins around in front of the mirror (It could only be worse if he were wearing a dress. Which Neku wouldn’t put past him, even now that the Game is over and they don’t need to watch what they wear.).
“What, you don’t think it’s my color?” Joshua asks, and casts him a look that’s halfway between a pout and an attempt at seduction- both of which Neku knows he could do better. The shirt is a few shades too red, and his sleeves billow ridiculously; paired with the neon yellow jeans, Joshua looks ridiculous. Even for Joshua.
Neku is unimpressed. “Dude, if you think either of those is your color, we need to get your eyes checked.” And what happened to his fashion sense? He was so high and mighty about it- worse than Shiki about putting down Neku’s choice of clothing. Even Neku can tell that this is a disaster.
“Then what is my color, Neku?” Joshua all but purrs, hand on his hip, and oh. Neku should have seen this coming.
“Your color is shut the fuck up,” Neku says, and makes to leave before his face turns as red as the shirt. He doesn’t even know why he came along in the first place; he already knew that shopping with Joshua- clothes shopping, especially- is worse than shopping with Shiki. And Shiki doesn’t feel the need to turn everything into some kind of flirtation that she may or may not mean.
“I can hear what you’re thinking, you know,” Joshua calls after him, snickering. “You’re right; I think I should try this in blue. And of course I mean it; what do you take me for?”
“I can answer that question if you want me to,” Neku says, and it’s not much of a threat.
Joshua laughs again. “I love you, too,” he says- and did he have to say it so loudly? Neku cringes, hopes no one was close enough to hear that.
“Call me when you’re done,” he says, and tries to find something in the store that will distract him enough to get the blush off his face.
Her magenta streaked hair glinted in the sun as she twirled her way through the grass field. The contrast made the picture magnificent.
blues clues dog. hot pink. looks good with turquoise. the colour of my hair. loaded in ink cartridges,
Magenta is not a shy colour .It burst forth with boldness and thanks to our technologically charged world it has even entered the male vocabulary and forced them to see beyond the basic primary colours. Yes it holds a place of prominence on the computer” colour wheel”.
there’s a colour i like ot call blue, but i’t s not, it’s tinted beautifula nd starts with a m an dends with pretty, it looks like you my dear, magenta shines like your eyes and your smile combined in one. Magenta shines like love’s gone mad, although I suppose it was never sane to begin with. And so this story goes like many do,
The magistrate sits with airs wrapped in the vibrance of spring. Beauty of this sort is a sore digit amongst long paled bodies of workers, who could be happy if only they were dumb enough to think they could get out of this or smart enough to realize they could.
Honestly, the worst thing I can think about is trying to forget a woman. The smell of her, the way she caresses your neck with her fingers while you kiss, the look of her smile. It’s here I find myself, trying to forget those things and the color of her favorite lipstick: magenta.
it’s such a beautiful color, it’s lively and gorgeous. its like purple with a splash of red and maybe some blue. im not quite sure. it makes me think of blues girlfriend from blues clues. i never understood how blue was a girl it never really made sense to me and then magenta was a boy. i guess it was a diverse thing and a way to express acceptance of all genders.
Such a nice color. Such a nice sound. magenta. No need for capitals. It’s nice. magenta. It makes me calm. I don’t know much else to say. Just breathe.
what a beautiful garment, I thought, holding it up in the light. The stitching was even and the soft alpaca yarn made the shrug even more delicious to wear. The feeling of accomplishment was overwhelming as I pulled the shrug over my shoulders, lightly feeling the stitches under my fingers as the fabric pressed against my skin. I am so glad I made it.
whyever would someone invent a color name like that? it makes no sense to me. It brings no sight to my mind. By now I know what magenta sorta represents, but why not simply say purple? or have I managed to forget what magenta means? likely.
she grew up in shades of magenta
her barbie dolls were pink
with their dresses
and her skirts were pink,
laced with ruffles
her lipstick was red,
darker than sin,
to hide her fear
and replace it with
confidence
her blood was red,
darker than fear,
as it ran across her
skin
and as it stained
the blade
that was his teeth
the man she fell in love with
came in shades of the deepest blue
he was a navy blue
of the night sky,
plucking out her lights
one by one.
in the dark alleyway,
her blood was black,
her dress was torn,
and her heels were broken
her teeth were red
the next morning
she was a stain
on the cobblestones
of the city.
magenta is a color i really never think about. I’m not sure what things in my life are magenta. i wouldn’t mind bringing magenta into my life, change is always great. if i were to be crazy i would name my future daughter magenta.
Long ago, there was a family. A simple family. They had a child named Benjamin and from the time he was born, he spent his life wondering whether he would be something great, or something meek. Then, after a freak accident at a magnet polarizing plant, he became something else entirely: Magneta.
He looked up as she came in the room and instantly regretted it. He could not keep the color from rushing to his face. She stood in the doorway, adjusting something in her purse absentmindedly speaking softly to him, though he did not hear a word.
“What?” he asked, his voice rasped from staying silent too long.
Magenta. Magenta? Magenta. Sure. I can wear a magenta dress. That won’t be weird at all. It doesn’t fit my best friend’s theme, or her color scheme, or…anything. But this dress. This dress! This magenta dress. It was loud. It commanded attention. Not as much as her white one would, of course. A very tasteful loud.
It was from across the room that he saw it. It was basically an afront to his eyes. It was this bright hideous pink color that he couldn’t look away from and it was splattered all over some woman’s dress. He would come to find, after he took the courage to talk to her, that it was her favorite color, and that it would be present at their wedding, in their house, and sadly, the car that they shared. But he would grin and bear it, because he loved her, magenta and all.
The color slowly seeped into the floor, staining the wonderful blue rug a horrible pink color. She screamed in horror, leaping to try and save what color she could. The man, the one who had spilled the liquid across the floor, shrugged indifferently; pink was a color and he didn’t mind it on the rug.
Another day in their household.
He threw the slices of meat into the pot along with the peculiar magenta cubes of some kind of root vegetable. “The key is,” he explained loftily, “making sure the beets don’t get too mushy.”
STOP.
my eyes slowly move up from the ground,
you approach me.
in the calmest manner.
my face turns the reddest shade of purple.
you soul engulfs me.
and mine meets yours half way.
LOVE.
it eats away at me,
everyday of my life,
I cannot seem to get the thought out of my head.
EVER.
It haunts me.
I wake up to it.
I like to say that every single being of the opposite sex,
is my soul mate.
and my brain forces me to.
BELIEVE.
I search every square inch for love,
LITERALLY.
just the sweet dreams my mind takes me away to;
using my body and the feeling of love being there.
surrounding me and that one other soul-
ADDICTING.
I need more.
Magenta. Why do I think this color is for punks, or the extremely rich? I almost can’t stand to look at it, but then again, I can barely stand to look at anything right now.