Best Burgundy Poems

i g n o r a n c e~
is a rhyme without soul
an art of f a d i n g into oblivion...
like crestfallen tulips 
twirling through tethered rays
in the midst of seething sighs...
and I am more than the
blazing thorn
of a phoenix rose moon,
 infused in...

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Up came the sunshine richly golden,
Until the afternoon of deep orange,
When fragrant blooms had their way!
Richly golden to deep orange, then-
Burgundy down.
Burgundy down.
After that all day color light show!
For during every hour nature awaits,
The loving hand of the Master of Fates!
He guides bluejays and paints...

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Tell me 
What you see 
When you 
Look at me 
is it really what you thought 
it was? 
And I've 
had enough  
of things like love 
and bitterness. 
Got no one to thank but the 
clouds in the sky, 
but why, why do they...

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bougainvillea
decorative thorny bush
delights with color













3-5-2016...

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As death embraced my whole being
Shrouded in burgundy taffeta
Her arms forceful
Embraced me
So as we spooned
I could not turn to see her lace shrouded
Face

She whispered
In Victorian tongue
Just loud enough to menace
Yet no matter how intensely I listened
Not one word
Made
Sense

I tried to respond
Or scream
Or raise
But my living...

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I hear the rumbling of povertys approach.
Nothing in the budget for the Midas touch.
Faith is the only hope left for the clutch.
My hometown just suits her fine.
Exceed the limits and surely,she'll flash her dash with a warning sign.

I use her and abuse her and I'd...

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How would you feel if the sky cried a burgundy rain?

The sorrow the wise would feel
Of this: the ultimate horror
Or the more comical idiots whine
About the staining on white shirts
Could, possibly, one ignore this?
Like the Caesar had done before
Or would common man wage war?
Like done...

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Burgundy persuades me
And my eyes set forth to dance
She appears to move effortlessly
A captive to romance

I take her gentle hand
Which feels weightless straight from heaven
We move as one as lovers can
With grace none can imagine

She smiles with her eyes, her whole
Matching my feelings without a...

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Can a city be a city without a history?

History makes none better than another 
Although it does make a city, a city
For the blood that fell from the horrific cloud 
To the red ground beneath my very feet
Paves the pathways of the urban earth here
The...

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Frost has tinged the Japanese Maple
Turning its leaves to burgundy red
Pears lie upon the ground not staple
As roosters rise nosily from bed

Nice on the porch at sunrise
Feeling the November cold
Hear birds chirp tales so wise
Mocking tale was a surprise and bold...

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burgundy flower
instills aroma
as sweet wine                                        ...

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So this is what it’s about
sitting under the darkening sky
hoping to finish the last red drop
before the first rain drops

swirling burgundy around the crystal
grape puddles breathing an oily fog
spit seeds of perception—
the acidity of intellect
eating through the rinds of remorse
as she speaks
and speaks?...

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My fingers are blood red, but not bloody.
If adults were here they might be wondering; it looks like Kool-Aid.
Most probably from my handy burgundy hair dye touch up paint.
I spritz a bit of it on my part when I start to look like a red...

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Some of the Bradford Pears have turned burgundy
The leaves are so glossy feeding the trees the last for this year
As they drink the burgundy wine from their lips
The black ink of my pen tells my poignant tale of my love for you

This creation that you...

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Burgundy devil doll of Dumpkins City,
You are intimidating but amazingly pretty.
We have heard that you can also be a tiny bit witty.
But we are afraid of you , me and my cat, Itty Bitty....

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