Best Pinkest Poems
Honeysuckle by the sea
lupine blue and wild sweet pea
buttercups and hare bell fair
tiny daisies for my hair
kissed by winds
of salted spray
sweetest bloom of the day
flaxen sea oats
bend their heads
anchored in their sandy beds
purple vetch's tendrils creep
through watery graves
where starfish sleep
silent ocean bed of glass
awaits the twilight time to pass
so to greet the shadowed moon
hear the distant lonely loon
seaside flowers will slumber nigh
under stars in evening sky
pinkest sunset will adorn
evening clouds for next day's morn..
Categories:
pinkest, fantasy, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
You are my soul's hinterland Huntress
methodical in seduction
beautiful in bashful entrapment,
capturing this man's mania for erotic offering
leading me into open fields of forbidden fantasy,
Disrobe my desire, denude my fire
that spires hot for you,
you are my naked rose
the tempt in my nose,
study me into your curious and craving eyes
steady my focus for inescapable caress,
take notes of my heart
make love to my every part,
You are my love Muse
the woman I choose
the pulse I use
a breath and skin
I savor to bemuse,
no other woman
shall shade and confuse
our loving views,
this face is yours
my tongue adores your shores
my Quill explores all your doors,
grab me needily
where the throb for your grip is thickest,
spread petals silken pinkest
lay wide your pleasure purest -
J.A.B.
Categories:
pinkest, beauty, desire, love, lust,
Form:
Romanticism
Sweet floral wine aged with a fine distinction
permeates violet fluorescence through the air
silenced souls and the years cut into the night
and wrapped about the pinkest moon reunite
Love held at bay bringing life to weathered sails
under whispered breath and last nights first kiss
eyes widen with each anxious glance embraced
as time slowly tics hearts become gallantly graced
Flushed with feelings captured in a glow anew
It's never, never too late for a love that is true
Categories:
pinkest, love, true love,
Form:
Rhyme
LOVE SIGNS
The husband sat beside his wife
That woman-- passion of my life
Her eyes were lowered but their shine
Betrayed her mind saw us entwined
She took a pen in her white hands
Caressed the length, across black bands
Brought the tip near to her lips
Her tongue flicked out --the pinkest whip
And I, a pen from briefcase took
Swiftly bit it--her legs shook
And so across the room we loved
But never from his side she moved.
A pen, so small, a simple thing
became accomplice of our fling
Categories:
pinkest, passion,
Form:
Heroic Couplet
I. The Virgin
Dimpled white dove of a girl,
tell me where did you go
when I opened the little door
to your cage--
did you flutter, supple and blushing
into the half-moon's glimmer?
Floating on the breeze of girlhood,
did you caress the cheeks of new lovers
as you whispered by?
Did you sing the songs they yearned to hear,
those secret virgin songs of canaries
and the pinkest of May's blossoms?
Tell me, virgin, where did you go?
II. The Whore
And you, young tigress with
patchouli-scented heart, how did you endure
when men exchanged secrets of your naked
body while you slept?
In dreams they whispered,
"Jezebel," and you clung to the sound of it
tell me, how did you feed your sweet
milky light to moth-men, even as
your soul's moon waned and drained you,
your body devoid of light?
Who guarded your nymph's soul from harm--
tell me, whore, who nourished you?
III. The Mother
Mother of mushroom, mother of sprite
tell me how you gave birth to an angel
by the light of the full moon,
squatting on your forest bed of moss and memories
tell me how you became only a flood of nourishment.
A cloud of light. A safe buoy of love
in the vast, startling sea of the world
and nothing more. Not for your Self.
When your angels have flown from you,
will you mourn an empty nest?
Will you be broken, or will you be free?
Goddess mother, tell me...
Who will you be?
Categories:
pinkest, allegory, creation, girl, moon,
Form:
Free verse
to animate imagination
I chose cashmere, apricot, opal and platinum
soul’s command center smiled
puddles of ideas came swiftly
I discarded them
Tossing them into the stream of nowhere
tantalizing whiskey wishes played in my dendrite field
I tossed these tidbits and trinkets aside
Sycamore stem of consciousness rolled her eyes
I slapped a mean name tag on her trunk
Dendrite field used its largest pinkest eraser
We began anew
My spirit guides began playing with the ignition switch
My muse slapped me upside the head
When is it our turn? She asked me.
I truly had no answer.
Categories:
pinkest, art, muse,
Form:
Free verse
In 1912 she sits in lane
On cobblestone in fog and rain
Buy a posy of violet hue
Lavender flowers with morning dew
Pinkest roses from my "barrow"
From gardens sweet in Health and Harrow
Take pity on a maid like me
So I may go and taste some tea
The morning mists do chill my soul
And I'm almost out of coal
I sleep each night in pauper's bed
As dreams of a saviour fill my head
To lead me up to a garden of flowers
Where I may rest and pass the hours
Far away from London's social tripe
And those who call me "guttersnipe"
Categories:
pinkest, sadmay, me, morning,
Form:
Couplet
The prettiest baby ever born.
The kindest child ever imagined.
The most adorable smile ever created.
So darling, she should be in the dictionary under the word darling.
The softest hair ever created.
The pinkest lips.
The bluest eyes.
So cute, your eyes will fall out because of her cuteness.
First grandchild?
How did you guess?
Categories:
pinkest, grandchild, humorous,
Form:
Free verse
It was not expected, this diversion. Being uncommon of a type
And truly off the beaten track; the windscreen wipers wipe
Away the sheets of marmalade rain unremittingly,
Their sweeping swipe at drizzled prisms swept incessantly.
The sun, it emerged, again without expectation. Light fractured cloud
Sparkling off the bonnet of the car; the rays avowed
To turn the moisture into steam, and did so spectacularly,
The haze and mist ploughed the fields of density.
She was picked up on the hard shoulder. Somewhere north of despair,
I recall, and hitched a ride beside me; the rain still glittered in her hair,
And her eyes the shade of bluebells fluttered beautifully,
Her cheeks so fair, lips the pinkest, moistest frames of destiny.
I had given hope a vacant backseat. Yet the road’s adverse camber can shift,
Can tilt and alter time and travel; and though the king of drifting may still drift,
Fractional increments serve to lift directional gravity,
So one correction of the wheel reacquaints with love’s vitality.
Categories:
pinkest, allegory, life, lost love,
Form:
Verse
Kitchen rat with the ugliest pinkest tail
Jumped on the table and drank Daddy’s ale
I was frightened for he was as large as me.
Where could I hide? Under a cup for tea?
I slid into place with the cup on my head.
Holding my breath, for I felt nothing but dread.
Kitchen rat turned the cup over and said, “Hi there!”
This did nothing to diminish my horrible fear.
“I do not bite,” the rat said, giving his head a shake.
Do you want a piece of this birthday cake?
Of course I did, the cake had been baked for me.
I ended up sharing chocolate cake and a pot of lemon tea.
Categories:
pinkest, 10th grade, 4th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
Do you think you know me?
Do you want to?
The tough thick skin you soften with your touch
Hides only something far penetrate.
You move in me and melt ice
but only a little.
The wall that surrounds the truth
Is thick and well built many years before you.
The truth is hidden behind my indifference
The feeling muted by the numbness
If only I could be who I was
Before many trampled through the courtyard
Leaving behind only ruin and decay
A place that was filled with the light of love and hope
Now shadowed behind the great wall
All inside is dying
The screaming from behind the wall is deafening
As the girl who loves screams to be released
Begs to be allowed to love
But she remains trapped behind the wall forever
She who is not afraid to love with her entire soul
Who longs to be loved and dreams the pinkest of lovely dreams
Laughing I quiet her pleading
For I know the truth
To love is to invite only misery
The only good she has is hidden behind that wall
And it is the only part that deserves protecting
Let them come and trample her body
Her heart will remain intact
Categories:
pinkest, anxiety, depression, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
By the light of the pinkest prettiest orange moon Faerie folk had ever seen,
There was a haze such as the elves could have invented, but maybe not.
It was the magical bewitching hour, and the meadow was dampish, and keen.
The nymphs had put their butterflies away, to lie next to the woolen sot.
The woolen sot was a rag doll which had been left in faerie land eighteen years ago
By a little girl who had fallen into the meadow accidentally during a dream.
The entire faerie brigade could not have gotten her home, without the help of GLOW.
GLOW is made up of cricks, flicks, santa mezies, ricks, and beetles, any bug not mean.
We worked for hours to dislodge the child, so we could safely pass her back to her bed.
Somehow the leaf lickers had not noticed the doll, until it was way too late.
I was one of the lucky ones, at the feet. We clearly felt sorry for the ones who had her head.
The head movers had to be extra careful to not wake the sleeping princess, age of 8.
This night was one of those magical nights that only comes around in a blue sky’s row.
We knew that sleeping princess’s daughter just might fall through the rainbow, and we were ready.
We had washed Woolen Sot, reattached her loose eye, and tightly and sewed her slit toe.
Everyone was dancing the faerie fix it dance, even the silly bubbalouer, sick Freddy.
We knew if baby daughter fell through onto Faerie meadow tonight, we could get Woolen Sot home.
We all kissed her soundly, and loudly, with smacking, happy faerie kisses. She kissed us for fun.
“Here she comes!” Freddie called out. “Everybody move!” We ran behind the fountain of Over-Roam.
“Where did you come from?” her mother, the original owner, cried out the next day, overcome.
Never realizing it was the faeries, the brownies, the slay slimmers, the toots, and this darling poem.
Yes, we brought Woolen Sot home, yes we did!
Categories:
pinkest, 2nd grade, 3rd grade,
Form:
Rhyme
Dawn's Calyx Woke Her And She Saw Pink Explosions
Dawn's calyx woke her and she saw pink explosions
As if hot flaming rays across the window sill
She woke me, I was brainstorming some implosions
Laughed together, love was in the pinkest pill
But day cried out, I am now tantalizing you
Your hearts are combining but my golden rays shift
Radiant glazes that give you more than your due
I work with love, in tandem we paint in to uplift
At the beach morning sun again touched our souls
As the ocean's strong waves washed our lazy feet
We marveled, life astoundingly joined our goals
Must have been Heaven's lovely will that we would meet.
That day, in the afternoon we vowed to wed.
That glorious night, we slept in a silken bed.
Robert J. Lindley, August 24th, 1974
Sonnet
Categories:
pinkest, girlfriend, happiness, joy, love,
Form:
Sonnet
Garden’s luxury of pinkest foxglove,
Nurtured by angels from way up above,
Along with petunias and marigolds,
Honors the true path of the very old.
Joyful delight oozing from every pore,
Fairy brownie heart completely did soar.
Sweet deer in the meadow came up to see,
Owls and robins were looking from their tree.
Twilight breezed in on tiny birdlike wings.
Macaw and crow were given shiny things.
My poet’s heart was cheering in my dream.
Gentle brook trickled into every stream.
A prettier scene will never be found.
Joyfulness and love oozing all around.
Categories:
pinkest, garden,
Form:
Sonnet
"I know the land where the lemon-trees flower,
I know where it is,
and I'll take you there,
Because you're my one and only lover.
I know the land where the lemon-trees flower,
It's a beautiful place,
just like your face,
It's fragrance will intoxicate you,
it's a place you never knew.
I know the land where the lemon-trees flower,
I'll take you there in an hour,
The lemons are sweet and sour,
Like our love, it's filled with passion and power.
I know the land where the lemon-trees flower,
the greenest of the grasses, and the pinkest of the flowers dwell therein,
tiny butterflies and dragonflies cheerfully hover.
I know the land where the lemon-trees flower,
and in it lies an abandoned, old tower.
Let's go there and spend some time,
Until the sun dies, until it becomes a crime."
7/29/2018 - A Familiar Land - Julia Ward
Categories:
pinkest, feelings, flower, happiness, joy,
Form:
Lyric