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The Best In The Pink Poems

Details | In The Pink Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Small Bouquet Of My Word Groupings

you were an infant
i would sing a song i created for you

'there's a baby in my arms
there's a baby in the mirror
but honey 
there's not really two
the child in the mirror
is only 
an image 
of you'

in that same vein i write this


you can't hide inside a mirror
it wouldn't be good for your image
if you see what i mean
take a minute to reflect on that thought
frame it as you will
raise a glass to good cheers
this isn't the time to crack
feel shattered 
it is the exact reverse

like skipping a rock across the smooth surface of a lake
seven skips of good luck
because you are the fairest of them all

looking back at yourself 
keeping it compact
as you duplicate your own words 
impossible to read from the other side
this echo of your vision

the epitome of a prototype replicates


who is the quintessential hero and who is the fake

go through that rabbit hole -straight to wonderland

bedazzle -radiate -glimmer -scintillate 
the glare will define you

you have not now or have ever been a duplicate
you are and will always be the one and only

Oct 2 2017 - love above all else love - armand



But Tell Me Where Do The Children Play 

you can't lie your way to the truth
what we teach our children 
should apply to us too
you took a wrong turn
check your moral compass
the needle is spinning faster
than a bottle in search of a kiss 
what would our mother think
if she knew what you were up to
you're changing everything she fought for
in her life children mattered
like the singing preacher asked
such a long time ago
'...where do the children play...'

you can argue climate change
but you can't deny the quality of the air your breathing
when did we start bottling water just to take a drink
the taps are bleeding led 
too late to fix the guts of generations who drank it with trust
how do you look at a storm in the eye
didn't you already prove your blind
or do you keep yours closed so no one can look in
look deep inside your heart 

'...tell me, where do the children play?…'

Oct 2 2017- armand



Me? I Saw More.

the clown danced like a marionette 
his painted face featured a grimace

and a tear

i saw more

i smiled
no fear here

a performer 
an amazing mime artist
a procurer of pathos

he was pulling a little red wagon
with a large orange hard ball
walking on the spot
performing 'funny'

i saw more

we often have to carry more 
than we think we can handle
our shoulders grow
atlas carried the earth on his shoulder
when we think we can do no more
we do even more than we need to

i saw more
the power of one
we don't need help
we need initiative 
no brother or sister's need
is less important than our own
'give and you shall receive'

we are all more
it takes a strong child 
to raise the values of a village
i can't win unless we all win
we have tried the blame game
five thousand years later


we are being led by weak men
want bigger and bigger guns
at a time when we have enough weapons
destroy the earth hundreds of times over

money is 
has always been

i see more
i see you
and you 
and you

ghandi was right then
ghandi is right now

do you see

Oct 2 2017- armand




i am going to touch you
like a firefly touches 
the dead of night
lights the obscurity 

i want to illuminate 
the pitch dark of your perspective 
inject a bright glow of hope
cleanse your thoughts of the negative

did you argue today 
felt regret
did the daily news invade your cheer
turned your 'in the pink' to something 'blue'

i am going to reignite  your sense of calm
wave a wand -make your heart smile 
warm your complexion to a glow
spread your goodwill worldwide

life i assure you isn't a rotting corpse
you have the strength 
rise above the doom and gloom
you are presently living

the alternative is an untimely exit
i believe in laughter
and i believe in unconditional love

i believe when your back is against the wall
persistence will create a door
a passageway out of the muck and mire

no matter how thick the fog
it only takes a breeze
to clear a path
one you can ride to your destination of choice

Oct 2 2017- armand



Colour Me Ill 

i tried to fly today
nothing deep here
this isn't that type of poem
didn't go that well
i fell flat on my fa fa fa face
(pardon my stutter
a temporary side effect of the fa fa fa fall)

i wasn't writing any poetry
at the hospital either
all joking aside 
there was a lot of blood
did you know that doctors 
have no sense of humour

i was slurring anyways
you gotta love that morphine
they were cleaning up the blood
i said thanks dr. acula 

not even a snicker
and i'm not speaking of a chocolate bar
wasn't even my joke
stole it from Mitch Hedburg

coincidentally the doctor left me in stitches

the nurse said she was taking me for an X-ray 
i didn't really hear her but she was a knockout
something ..x 
sounded go go good to me
i was running in front of the wheelchair she was pushing
i was excited

we got somewhere 
she left
you gotta love that morphine
i must of impressed them
they thought i was a model
they took pictures of me
Bi Bi Big pictures
you should of seen the size of the negatives 
i ordered ten sets 

they pushed me outside and left
pa pa par for this course

suddenly my nurse date was back
they always come back

she's gone 

Oct. 2 2017- armand

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2017

Details | In The Pink Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Rose Bowl

The sky is one gigantic bowl of pink turned upside down, spilling soft rosy petals that peeked out from beneath snow white billowed clouds till - fully blossomed - they burst out. Growing radiant at the edge of twilight, they’ve scattered as rubescent streaks falling, lush and luminescent, as we watch in solitude. No parade this evening - just you and I aglow, wishing for an eternity to be like this: so splendidly in love. . . in the pink. For the free verse on love poetry contest of Laura Loo Now for Anthony Slausen's the 'SKY' Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011

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First Rose of May

How beautiful is what I see today
          peeking from the green
                and almost unseen,
    blossoming for me – the first rose of May!
       While she’s in the pink,
           time is but a blink.
     In this merry month, oblivious is she
             to what’s to come as she poses prettily -

                        destiny evading

Her joy for now is sweet. What can she know
        of life’s suffering?
              She hears robins sing.
   On her face, tears are but a dewy glow.
      She is hope anew
         now that she’s in view!
    Will she – like me – feel her soul plunge to sorrow?
            Or will I – like her – be until tomorrow

                         destiny evading. . . 

      a wish faint and fading?

May 21, 2018 for Broken Wing's "Let Your Pen Drip" Contest
Theme: a wish faint and fading
Uses Gregory Barden's invented Qarinage Rhyme Pattern. See notes above.
Now used for Carolyn Devonshire's contest:
 'A Personal Favorite Poem Written in 2018' Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2018

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Childhood Days I’d heap spoonfuls of sugar in my tea I wouldn’t drink it without it you see That sweet syrupy drink Wasn’t poured down the sink Every single drop was supped up by me! Adulthood Dad’s diabetes made me think - Did I need to sweeten my drink So I cut sugar out And I don’t have a doubt I’m slimmer and I’m in the pink Contest: Two Lenses Sponsor Sara Kendrick 02~20~16

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

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Jitterbug July

Through the heat of July there are wee things that fly,
          Up-and-down in a flickering display,

In the fields and above as they bid for bug love,
          With the best of their flashing ballet ...

Night-after-night, in their shimmering flight,
          They're the envy of all other creatures,

For the evening is rife with such nocturnal life,
          But none other with such glowing features ...

They dance their bug waltz 'til the rising sun halts
          Their frolic and fun a few hours,

In the heat of the day, they just slumber away,
          But return with the close of the flowers. 

They're the kings of romance with their penchant for dance,
          As the dazzling she-bugs will attest ...

Hooking up on bright terms to make baby glow worms,
          Is the blinking-bug thing they do best.

This twilight promenade may put forth the facade
          That lightning bugs live "in the pink",

But those lights can reveal as a bigger bug's meal,
          So they're apt to be gone ... IN A BLINK!

~ 1st Place ~  in the "Standard Contest Number 140 Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017

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The complexities of life colours our world We are taken on a long and sometimes complicated journey Like being on a roller coaster where there are many twists and turns No day is ever the same - it can be a smooth or a bumpy ride Thankfully we don’t know how and when it will end We can wake up feeling sad and blue Feel down and depressed on a grey day If we are jealous we can be green with envy Be described as yellow if we act with cowardice See red when we are angry Feel tickled pink or be in the pink when we are happy Fall into a dark black mood See everything in black and white Say someone has a heart of gold Look to the sky seek a cloud with a silver lining We need to hang on to precious golden memories None of us knows what fate has in store for us May the colourful ribbons in our life be intertwined The good days out-numbering the bad Lots of happy colourful ones rather than sad 01~30~15 Contest: Life is like a Maypole – Seren Roberts ~awarded 2nd place~

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

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Apparitions or Dreams

Clinging to his pillow
Would he ever lie beside me again
Miraculous recoveries can come to pass
Finally sleeping, albeit brief
Bright light filled the room
In the mid of night she sat before me
Clad in the pink dress I’d bought for her burial
“Mother, I miss you and now my husband

     “Dear daughter, I’m watching over you
     You coped when I died; you’ll survive this too
     You’re not alone, I’ll make sure you get through
     Just remember I’m always here for you”
Just five a.m., but the phone
Alone, the vision gone,
“We’re sorry, but John passed in the night”
But feeling mom’s presence still
Made a move to another state
Years passed, more obstacles, a fiancé drowned 
Tossing, turning and finally
In the mid of night John sat before me

     “My darling, I’m watching over you
     You coped when I died; you’ll survive this too
     You’re not alone, I’ll make sure you get through
     Just remember I’m always here for you”
Were these dreams or spiritual apparitions?
When trying to survive under adverse conditions
I feel no desire to seek “rational” explanations

*For PD's "Dreams" contest

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010

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Where Do Frogs Go To Think


Where do frogs go when they need to think?
I've often wondered where.
When they're not feeling quite in the pink
do they hide under the stairs?

Do they feel like they must follow rules
and stick to a Lilly pad?
Or can they hide in a shed full of tools
when they are feeling sad?

What if a frog felt like being alone
away from his froggy friends
Where could he go to be unknown?
Well, I guess that depends.

He couldn't go to the circus or show,
he would never be sold a seat,
he would not like a plateau of cold snow
it would be very tough on his feet.

French restaurants are not the place for him,
and he would not like to see a bait shop
but he might make some friends over at the gym
and he would be a big hit at the hop!

He could go to the library, its quiet in there
maybe catch up on some old books.
Or he could ask the beavers to share their lair,
he tried the geese and got some funny looks.

It needs to be safe, it needs to be quiet,
it needs to be worry free,
he needs to have access to his daily diet
of flies, bugs, worms, and bees.

Maybe under some roots, or the edge of a bog,
some place that might make him glad,
side of a meadow, or an old rotten log,
or even his own lilly pad.

And what would a frog think about,
when they take the time?
Do they think about flies, or avoiding trout?
That is a question for another rhyme.

Copyright © Christopher Reilley | Year Posted 2014

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Now that I am in my sixties,
I look back on my life like the Sinatra song.
I was working and busy until a few years ago,
but then I fell, and everything went wrong.

When I was in my fifties,
I was in the start of a new career.
It wasn't what I wanted to do,
but at that point, it was the only path that was clear.

When I was in my forties,
Life seemed to be in the pink.
Little did I know,
it would soon all go down the drink.

When I was in my thirties,
my life was on the upswing.
A second love had saved my life,
I had a good job, a beautiful wife, and a new child from the hospital to bring.

When I was in my twenties,
Young and in love like a fool.
Dating and romancing and feeling life,
all while I was putting myself through school.

Way back when I was ten,
The kids on the block...we were always on the run.
Except when I was in school,
Learning the three "R's" from those persistent nuns.

I do not remember much before the age of five.
I did what most kids do I suppose.
Learning about the world one day at a time,
Never realizing how fast time really goes.

So here I am reflecting,
on all those sixty-plus years.
Remembering the growth, the loves, the ambitions,
A life of what could have been, now reduced to tears.

Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2016

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Doing The Santa Shuffle

Santa’s helpers, take a break From the toys they like to make And just for pure fun's sake They dance the Santa Shuffle Rudolph with his nose so bright Likes to dance all through the night Dances until the morning light Doing the Santa Shuffle Frosty Snowman dons his hat Often he pops in to chat And when he is all done with that He does the Santa Shuffle Mrs Claus is in the pink Gives her husband a cheeky wink Perhaps she’s had too much to drink She’s doing the Santa Shuffle Santa, resting by the fire Thinking that he might retire Suddenly has the strange desire To do the Santa Shuffle So why don’t we all take this chance? To do this festive yearly dance Mistletoe, wine, who knows, romance Let’s do the Santa Shuffle

Copyright © Gary Wayne Hill | Year Posted 2013

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Secret Directions to Jilliby Farm

Enter beside the hollow log mailbox.
Here the road leads through a profusion of leafy damp shadows.
Wild ferns are the underbrush
where Fairy Wrens flit from the slightest presence.
This driveway winds by towering bush gums flanked
on the other side by a paddock
thick with Kikuyu and other mixed grasses.
A dam  that reflects the passing clouds
is the central focus.
Wild ducks veer away whenever cars approach.

Way down - as far as the vision stretches
is a copse with  mysterious shadows that beckon.
Walk now, along contours formed by the water rush of many rains.
Feel the stress of life melt from every cell.
Birdsong has already worked its magic on your being -as well
as sunlight on your skin, and earth scents inhald deeply to your lungs.
Your heartbeat has fallen into the rhythm of the elements around.

You’ve reached the shadows of the copse- 
you’ll look up to a brilliant sky 
through the branches of tiny, spiky melaluca leaves.
Imagine giant broccoli and you are Alice
 looking for a Cheshire Cat. 
Your hands will linger on the tree trunks woven
with a plimsol lines of grass left by many years of floods.

These melaluca trees are brother-twined, rising
 from spongy islands, formed by countless accumulations 
of their own dead leaves.
Placid waters  reflect them, Narcissus-like,
 as clouds hang in their branches.
Below, water  lilies hide black roots
 in squishy, clay mud. 

 Following along the small islands of land,
 jumping from bank to bank, 
you will see tiny wild flowers, trailing vines and wild maidenhair ferns.

Suddenly, you will happen upon,
 a huge, grey Charoloais Bull 
grazing on a giant clump of grass.
 He will ignore you as you pass,
 if you circle wide enough.

Look over now to the homestead on high ground. 
 It beckons with a fireplace for frosty mornings
 and a swimming pool for scorching summers.

You’re in the Dooralong Valley
 and a Golden eagle soars above, so large,
 it can take an unprotected lamb.

Someone saw a huge, red-bellied, deadly, black  snake
 here in a pile of rubble, left by some land clearers.

Overnight, humongous spiders will build webs
 between trees to catch you unaware.

But not all is scary here. 
It only heightens the beauty. 
In the pink dawn, grey wallabies, with a sun halo along their fur
 will graze on dew-laden grass. 
 Kookaburras will laugh their kookalaugh
 and fill the valley with their jollity.

 Written Summer 2007

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2014

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Rice ain't nice and the NFL smells

Don't know 'bout you, but I'm in a stew
that Rice ain't nice and the NFL  smells.
Seems a shame, just  2 games
suspension for sending fiancé to unconscious dimension 
but 5 games in the pink for some "illegal" ink
and a season on the rope for smokin a little  dope.
Too bad, violence gainst women so sad
but these are men in a violent pen
NFL pretzel logical?
Whatever the reason, dirty laundry in preseason
washed clean yawl, if Ray take us to the Super Bawl.
Tennis anyone? 

Copyright © D.W. Rodgers | Year Posted 2014

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Enjoy Yourself

You work and work for years and years. You're always on the go. 
You never take a minute off, you're too busy makin' dough. 
Some day, you say, you'll have your fun when you're a millionaire. 
Imagine all the fun you'll have in your old rockin' chair,
so enjoy yourself, it's later than you think. 
Enjoy yourself while you're still in the pink. 
The years go by as quickly as you wink,
so enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it's later than you think. 
Your heart of hearts, your dream of dreams your ravishing brunette 
has left you now and she's become somebody else's pet. 
Lay down that gun, don't try my friend to reach the great beyond. 
You'll have more fun by reaching for a red-head or a blonde, 
so enjoy yourself, it's later than you think. 
Enjoy yourself while you're still in the pink. 
The years go by as quickly as you wink.
Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it's later than you think. 
You love somebody very much, you'd like to set the date, 
but money doesn't grow on trees so you decide to wait. 
You're so afraid that you will bite off more than you can chew. 
Don't be afraid, you won't have teeth when you reach ninety two, 
so enjoy yourself, it's later than you think. 
Enjoy yourself while you're still in the pink 
The years go by as quickly as you wink, 
so enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it's later than you think.
You never visit nightclubs so you never get a dance.
You don't have time for silly things like moonlight and romance.
You only think of dollar bills tied neatly in a stack,
but when you kiss a dollar bill it doesn't kiss you back,
so enjoy yourself, it's later than you think.
Enjoy yourself while you're still in the pink.
The years go by as quickly as you wink,
so enjoy, enjoy, enjoy yourself, it's later than you think.
Enjoy! Enjoy! Enjoy Yourself! It's later than you think.

Copyright © Billy TheKidster | Year Posted 2013

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Drink Drank Drunk

It started with a drink I drank till drunk
when I started to wonder if I'd blink till blunk.

As I opened my eyes in a stink I stunk
and I started to think and thank till thunk.

Life beginning to sink, it sank till sunk.
I was feeling the fink; a fank with funk.

With my money going clink and clank till clunk,
I was poor to a plink of a plank gone plunk.

When I thought of a link I had linked till lunk,
come as fast as a mink of a mink gone munk.

And I started to write in an ink gone unk,
just to write down a story in the pink gone punk.

Then I started to slink and slank till slunk,
all from writing a story of kink and kunk.

Just afraid of an ending that I'd flink and flunk
as if out on the rink to rank my runk.

All to make me a trink of a trank to trunk.
I was rich in a prink of a prank gone prunk.

Copyright © Trevor McLeod | Year Posted 2015

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Pink Pink Pink

Once in my life, breast cancer, I did not know.
Which was lost, and what would be gained.
I could not see, beyond her glow
Faith and strength carried and remained.
Unfinished things of her dreams come slow
These were not to be lost, our love holds true
Loss of her alluring game would not matter, I did say
In life and love, she is stuck to me with glue
She is more than any loss, which may take away.

Pink in October shapes her autumn sky.
More beautiful now she faces its lie.
Sunshine wakes her in a moonlights lure.
Fighting like a girl, she wins the war.
Dancing as a woman she captures pink ardor.
She is more than a woman, my lady, my love.
Pink, pink, pink color beyond her despair,
Trials and tribulations, rising glow,
She has won her fight; in the pink, breast cancers beware.

Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2012

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The Pink Nursery

Only girls in the pink nursery...
(A boy was seen once in a blue corridor.)
This is a small girl's place.
Toys are not unisex, but pink here,
and the supervisors make sure.

At nine, there's a flurry of little girls.
They arrive on the morning train
without their brothers.
I've never asked where the boys go.
A boy was seen in a blue corridor.

His image was on video,
running away from the pink nursery.
"No Boys Here", says our entry point.
If you look at the video,
you see him look quite sad.

Copyright © Julia Ward | Year Posted 2015

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Rhythm and Rhyme


                             Rhythm and Rhyme
When rhythm and rhyme... join together,
Crafted are dynamic… poems and songs.
By blending the beat with harmonious words.
Creative works of art emerge, that never sound wrong!
Masters way back in time, used this technique,
As they set in motion, their feelings to song.
Rogers and Hammerstein eternally knew,
Precisely where the rhythm belonged.

They created legendary masterpieces, 
That caroled out to the world in song.
Forever… their tunes are often hummed, 
By fans as they walk along.

Eternally the music masters live,
Commencing from ….rhythm and rhyme.
Music and poetry lovers, savored their rich gifts,
That never faded with time!

Works of art …were created with words of love,
Happiness and kisses expressed. 
The suns morning message…for all to envision,
Through a tune created…is always its mission.

Yes… rhythm and rhyme 
Has brought happiness and tears
Erased sad days, wiped away fears.

For the expert of knowing, where to place the beat
Joined with a nuptial of words,
Have….earned masterpieces, a permanent seat.

It was and now is an art… that few pass the test,
Of, where the rhythm and rhyme belong
And why their creations…eternally lead over the rest

Yes… the gift of these masters,
Remain in books and on stage today.
And is reason… 
Theatre and music will never go away
For when the rhythm and rhyme are in sink 
An aura for the listening audience is created 
And places them in the pink!!!

It brings romance to dance,
With its message and beat.
 Like the well-known single,
 “When we’re dancing cheek to cheek”

And hopefully as you read this poem
You sense, the rhythm and rhyme 
With a smile on your face
And added pleasure… to life’s hectic pace.

So please… if ever you are sad,
Pick a favorite tune, and hum it along
As life also carries its own beat 
Akin… to a beautiful poem or song!!!!
Claudiaswords copy writes 2014


Copyright © Claudia Ainsley | Year Posted 2014

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Almost Extinct

Tomorrow I hit eighty, almost extinct Those eighty years sure went by in a blink Here for a while yet On that you can bet Never felt better my life's in the pink © Jack Ellison 2015

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2015

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Pink Joy - In the Pink

My granddaughter is in the pink
From her double chins to those drawers that stink
She looks just like a kewpie doll
She’s chubby, pink, and oh so small
Her cheeks are a rosy-pinkish hue
Her toes and fingers, they’re pink too
When she gets sleepy she’ll protest
Then fall asleep there on my chest
Her eyes will close – her lips will part
A pinkish glow grows in my heart
And once I feel that pinkish glow
It tells me that I love her so
Until I met her I don’t think
I knew what’s meant by in the pink

Copyright © mike dailey | Year Posted 2011

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The Human hues

She slipped clumsily in a 
Looked all around her
from the corner of her 
Felt all eyes upon her
Bit her lip
and flushed crimson 

He was sacked, literally 
Got down in the dumps
Was down and out
and was left feeling blue 
so gloomily.

He gave her a blossomed 
Blood rushed to her 
She blushed a deep red 
so joyously.

She watched her rival 
from afar
Summed up her 
envy in reflex
and she turned green 

It looked hale and hearty
Ooh the cherubic chubby 
Baby looked in the pink
as it babbled away 

She heard of a loved 
one's demise.
That was a shock indeed
She went white as a 
as she then wept so 

She saw a teeny-weeny 
spider on her skirts
Talk of arachnids and 
phobias, yikes! 
She turned a pale yellow 
in fright
as she screamed fearfully.

He found his sweetheart 
in another man's arms
Doubted his own charms
and his face went purple 
with rage
almost immediately.

He faced his lifelong 
Hate brimmed up in him
as his bitterness found a 
He shot him a black glare
most scornfully

well well, it might seem 
that the worst of all the 
human hues
are the melancholic 
depressing blues
But I think being green 
for jealousy
and the black of hate
top the list in deserving 

Mind you these human
pigmentation of emotion
are a matter of reflex
for you can't choose
which of the human hues
you'd like to wear, on 
party day
and which you'd rather 
not use.

Copyright © S.zaynab Kamoonpuri | Year Posted 2014

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Colors of Lace

Neapolitan In the pink, white, brown colors Colors of beauty Simply love these hues Holding these colors of lace So effeminate Neapolitan Grabs the perfect attention Colors within lace
Russell Sivey Entrant into PD's "Neapolitan Ice Cream " contest

Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2011

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Blue Days


A raw blue sapphire, cut to enhance the yellow spectrum
The sounds of trouble in the pink saloon down town
The scent of red roses wafted down the path to the mess
No sweets tonight, I can’t handle the taste of green jelly
Dark skies above feels like the black clouds are about to burst

Raw, yellow, sounds, pink, scent, red, taste, green, feels, black
Raw yellow cake from Rum Jungle
The sound of running water colored pink from acid
The smell so bad turns your face red from fumes
And the taste of the green oxide lingers in the air
Feels like things are not right with the mine in the eerie black ness
Tomorrow will be fine as the day unfolds with a cloudless sky, just another blue day 

Kevin l Fairbrother  5/11/2015

Copyright © Kevin Fairbrother | Year Posted 2015

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The Dishwasher - A tribute to a major appliance poetry contest

I really love the dishwasher
And so does Mum and Dad!
We filled it after every meal,
Until one day I heard a squeal!
Water had poured all over the floor
But hadn’t made it under the door!
Until the appliance was in the pink
Dishes were washed in the sink.
That really was not much fun,
It’s fair to say it was none!
Dishwashers can break in a blink
But it’s so much better than using the sink! 

Copyright © Nathan Bach | Year Posted 2015

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Pretty Lady In Her Pink

            Pretty Lady In Her Pink

Rain drifted left to avoid the flower in the pink dress
The collision was inevitable though
Roots pulled at the wet drops like magnets in that direction
Nature does not think about such things
It drinks in life with a vengeance, tenacious, obstinate
Friendly tiny flower only wants the best
A simple drink to make it pretty
It yearns to be a gift for a young lady
Still virgin in her pink, in her nudity 

Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2015

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Norma Jean

If I had the choice to start over again What would I rather have been A rocket scientist, a famous writer Or a stand-up like Norma Jean! Must've been fun to make 'em laugh To make people giggle and smile To help them forget life's many struggles If only for a very short while Now that's what I call a fun type job But I'm sure it had its down side Like sleeping all day and up all night Could make a person bleary eyed! Must've been hard in New York City Trying to please a tough crowd Her comedic skills are evident today When you read her poetry out loud! So instead of a comic, I became an artist Kinda similar in a way don't ya think Both creative and unique occupations Guess we both ended up in the pink! © Jack Ellison 2013 Norma Jean was a good friend on another poetry site!

Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2013