Best Lipstick Poems
There’s red lipstick
When her legs, dressed in denim, float teasingly through the air, and her soft, gentle hands caress her daily life.
All we see is red lipstick
When she hides secrets behind a subtle, tough leather jacket and her beautifully dressed, warm face smiles.
That glorious red lipstick
Camouflages her deep, seeking blue eyes as she gazes into you and her tender words ignite your thoughts.
Her proud red lipstick
Makes her wicked, sharp laughter carry her irony and her innocent mind screams out curiosity
All the while her dark red lipstick is yelling at the world- see me!
There’s red lipstick.
Sadly gone ,but not forgotten
from your dispenser full of grace
the magic colour purple
upon my lips did place.
A colour filled with wonder
that matched my bright-blue eye's
that could never set asunder
the oh-so-joyous surprise.
How good it looked, how good to see
that riotous splash; that helped me, to be
not him but HER, not he but SHE
awaiting womanhood
that's me !
Elizabeth alexander 10/12/2015.
UNSUPPORTED CODE
Depression is not treated by putting on lip stick
you stand in the mirror and put on the tears snot
drooling in your mouth behind the curtains awaiting
to go out on stage and face an eager audience depression
stings like a bee you painfully feel it you can't hide by journaling
writing poetry being clinically depressed takes constant
medication to control the chemical imbalance inside the brain
every brain in different although everyone gets sad it's a human
emotion being depressed for life is a cancer that has to be
treated professionally or the consequences can be very fatal
millions die every year from suicide sadly homicidal suicides
no one should encourage anyone in such a state to just write
a book glamorize depression this euphoric thinking results
in suicide notes and suicide planning this can be a dangerous
ticking time bomb without medication why all suicide notes are
poetic lyrics mental health ptsd are not a greatest hit anyone
I mean anyone in such a state needs to put down the lipstick
put down the pen stop typing suicide notes do yourself a favor
and make that call I did thirty years ago I am still taking
medication in therapy and writing poetry I'm alive I survived
my own suicide many are not alive to tell their story or just
write poetry or publish a book don't be a deadline the greatest
poets are read only after death don't make your suicide note
a greatest hit on your own life save yourself save someone you
love get help stay own your meds clock is a ticking notebook
by: mrs yolanda joy nicholsen
written 2-14-2024 2:07 am.
valentines day.
In loving memory of Virginia Woolfe
I once met a girl wearing blue lipstick
Who had cold kisses
and a heart tatted in dollar signs
With charming words and chimes
She bedazzled my mind
Leaving me frozen in time
With green lipstick on pouting lips
and pendulum sway in her walking—
adoration at finger tips—
thankfully we can’t hear her talking.
But now, everyone is without poise.
HD glares and surround-sound noise—
Producer of his own life story
content in all its gory glory.
The six-finger selfie in church
claimed by the Director to be right—
his hue clashed wildly with the pyrite.
Minions’ common sense left in lurch.
The grainy figure lost his detail
as the entourage has now hightail’d.
Luscious lips smelling of lavender
Inspiring cranberry kiss
Presenting poetic purple bliss
Sucking on chocolate neck
Timid yet teal tender caress
Interesting emerald eyes
Calling for comfort cherry cries
Keeping me hotter than July
A Beautiful woman
Sweet Voice, Hypnotizing eyes
Displays of smiles
Emotions of lies
Life seems normal
No obvious dismays
Yet you have no idea about her life or necessary ways.
You would never know what story she has to tell
You would never know how she lives so well
Not an average career Yet one so real
Only the true Lipsticks now she truly feels.
Shadows with no name
Conversations with no face
Only thing relevant is the action taking place
Makeup just right
Hair up tight
Eyelashes fluttering
Along with whispers in the night
They want to know more about her
So they try and converse
She accepts no emotional visitors
Strictly business & Dead presidents to place in her purse
Her lipstick leaves her mark
Dismisses those nameless shadows when the magic is done
Strictly pure survival
All work no fun
It Keeps the luxury in her pockets
A smile on her face
She a woman of strenth and undeniable grace
Sweet woman by day
A Beautiful host by night
Welcome to her world
Of a Lipstick Night
“Be this lipstick on your collar, McNeer?”,
The question inside him struck fear
- But, a lie he’d not tell
- “ ‘T was ye sister, Belle …”
Funerals' tomorrow I hear.
Lipstick on a coffee cup
Perfume on my sheets
Steam upon the mirror
A towel crumpled on the floor
Footprints in my bedroom
Left me pondering
Aching for more
I miss you this morning
Until then my love
I’ll wait by the door
all that remains
a lipstick smudge
on her pillow
Lipstick in the Mirror
It’s Everything and Everyone
And everywhere I’ve ever been
It’s all the things I’ve ever seen
And all the things inside of me
Inside of me Inside of me
You hide in me Inside for me
So Big and Round- Let’s push it down
Let’s push it down Let’s push it down
And You, It’s You-
You’re the Greatest thing I’ve ever seen
It’s You and Me You scream for Me
For you it’s me It’s you and me
And everything and everyone
And everywhere I’ve ever been
And all the things I’ve ever seen
You’re everything inside of me
Soooo
This Book of Dreams
All these sacred things
You’re everything inside of me
Inside of me Inside of me
So Big and Round
Let’s push it down
Let’s push it down
Let’s push it down
And Everything and Everyone
And everywhere I’ve ever been
And all the things I’ve ever seen
You’re the Greatest thing I’ve ever seen
It’s You- I Dream, inside of me
No matter what you do in samsara
in the effort to improve samsara,
improve yourself, improve others,
it’s still samsara.
All effort, all improvement, never leaves the wheel,
but that doesn’t mean there’s only the wheel.
The wheel is what spins, ever-changing,
the embodiment of impermanence,
but what it spins in
spins around,
spins for,
is another story altogether.
(8/19/23)
VIOLET LIPSTICK
She was . . . smiling into me,
Her eyes, in mine, asking me
"Sir, what do you want to order?".
I could not speak
I could only see
her violet lipstick.
I quickly, shyly, adverted my eyes.
I did not see that she was tall, shapely,
black-haired and pretty -
did my racial mind blink?
Not.
What does race matter
when it comes to beauty
and violet lipstick!
I have never seen it before,
violet, this exoticpassion hue
on a woman, a goddess,
or a black angel.
I thought she must have
beautiful eyes, but I could not
stop looking at her lips.
I mumbled my order
and fell
in love
with life
again.
Lipstick on the collar his only flaw
From the late night lover he just saw
Washed his shirt real quick
But forgot his shtick
He'll burn in Hell when she sees him raw
Here I sit all alone
On an island I will call home
For the next ten years or more
How , why, what is the score
I have my trusty tool
A Swiss Army knife is nobody’s fool
A waterproofed large awning
Giving me shelter dusk to morning
From sun and rain alike
That the second of my likes
My third I had to peruse
So many things I could choose
The bible brought itself to the fore
Has so many stories, I had read before
Nothing else can I choose
These three items I peruse
My knife with its many blades
Though horses hooves are in the shade
The awning I can wrap around
Or pin it out on the ground
My choices three I hold in awe
Damn forgot a lipstick wish there were four
October 6th 2013