Best Pinks Poems
The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.
He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.
This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.
The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.
With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.
His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.
The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.
The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.
November 25th, 2013
Categories:
pinks, death, funeral, garden, heaven,
Form:
Quatrain
To Dreamland on Sunset's Lullaby
Gracefully the young crescent moon
ascends the sky like a cosmic tune;
replacing the drowsy pale yellow sun
sinking on a golden glowing horizon.
To dreamland on a lullaby of silvery twilight...
to dreamland floating with music of night.
Even as shadows of day seek rest,
choirs of songbirds fly home to nest.
But asleep I'll be before stars start to shine;
asleep I'll be before Venus and Mars align.
To dreamland on a lullaby of silvery twilight...
to dreamland floating with music of night.
Melodies of powder-puff pinks and baby blues,
splashed on sunset's orange-tinted hues;
gently I'll slip into a cocoon of sweet slumber,
on the wings of a celestial lullaby so tender.
To dreamland on a lullaby of silvery twilight...
to dreamland floating with music of night.
The trials of day fade gloriously to gray,
and into Sandman's restful arms I will lay.
My restless spirit is calmed from within,
serenaded by nature's soothing violin.
To dreamland on a lullaby of silvery twilight...
to dreamland floating with music of night.
03-23-2018
Contest: Lullaby in the Sunset
Sponsor: Vermillion Scythe
Placement: 1st (PoetrySoup Premiere Contest winner)
Categories:
pinks, Lullaby, music, sleep, sunset,
Form:
Lyric
We drifted not far from shore -
a delicate night with supple air entire,
black and white until patience sent us grays
that rocked with the boat on the slight swells
which gradually reflected the star colors
azure and indigo, carmine and beryl,
sang to us in laurel and rose
verdant with coral and mint
emeralds peeking between pinks,
sapphires that told us of every prayer
ever whispered to them.
I was coming a long way back
that time in the empty park
where all I had were fears that I'd never heal.
In an instant it was all done and I was found
that day I saw your eyes.
The moon set in silence beyond the land.
A gentle wind turned the boat to the south.
Distant rain sent water washing the earth.
Just for a moment we touched the surface of all things.
I love you.
February 23, 2017 147 words
Categories:
pinks, love, moon, stars,
Form:
Free verse
One evening, much like any other
striated feathers of pinks, and deepest primrose
colored the clouds with facets of light, tapering inward
Traces of gold between each color, as deep and clear as the sages
The red sun overhead, had grown weary with seasons,
and did not seem to notice that we were mother and child
Whispering sounds of emerald breezes
did not label me wise, nor her naive'
We were two who walked equally, side by side
She lifted her voice,
and spoke with an eloquence I had not heard before,
and it was just as the twilight calls to the stars....
so that they will know just what to do
Young spruces stood bolt upright,
every twig stiff with interest,
and with deep respect at her every word
as if they were watching transformation in tandem,
an exchange so delicately detectable
And in one clinging moment to the other,
one of us was letting go of childhood,
and one was letting go of the child
Both of us looking to the sky for recognition
I watched the sycamore shed, beneath its load of yellow, rust and gold
Letting them quietly go, without remorse
while I did the same
_______________________________________
Categories:
pinks, daughter, introspection, mother, mother
Form:
Free verse
Deep within my hidden pastel dreams
are soft sweet colors of a newborn spring
dressed up in mauves and pinks and windham creams
while giving hope to love and all it brings.
Painted in the colors of the dawn,
like pinks and purples of the morning sky,
magenta dreams will bloom and love will spawn
as newly mated hearts begin to fly.
And thus our lilac love has taken flight
while sharing orchid thoughts without remiss;
soft words and fuchsia touches in the night
are punctuated with a crimson kiss.
The coral sun rays beaming from above
are raining down these colors of our love.
October 23,2024
Poem of the Day - October 24, 2024
Categories:
pinks, color, love,
Form:
Sonnet
My Grandma smelt of peppermints.
Her kitchen of boiling bacon,
and margarine - it was always steamy
and 'welcomingly' warm.
The bathroom, off the kitchen,
smelt of carbolic soap, and a layer
of talcum powder dusted the cupboards
a reminder of its liberal use.
The garden, with a greenhouse,
had a glorious array of pinks
and Sweet Williams - it was always summer:
no winters here, always sunny, as I recall.....
The old corrugated air-raid shelter,
above ground now, was a haven
for childhood, childish games.
It smelt of paraffin from the heater.
My Grandma smelt of peppermints.
She would lick her hanky and
wipe my mouth if it was sticky
from the gingerbread she'd made.
My Grandma always looked the same,
never younger, never older:-
her memory etched in my cerebral
photo frame as I remember her ........
smelling of peppermints,
fingers deformed with crippling arthritis,
but smiling, wiping mouths, cooking,
or sitting in her little garden in a floral dress.....
She's been gone for thirty years now,
but still I see her there.
I see the tissue filled pockets in her
'pinny'and the pin-curls in her hair.
Yes, my Grandma smelt of peppermints.........
Categories:
pinks, family, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
The sunset clouds are pinks and greys
in tattered strips, in rips and frays,
in feathered flight at end of days,
in summer skies that fill my gaze.
And in the pines beside the sea
a hundred birds talk endlessly
and shooshing waves lap hungrily
as we eat fish and chips for tea.
Before the day turned into night
the pinks were burned by dying light.
The birds were still, the moon was slight
when day had gone and it was night.
And then my eyes could hardly see
the scenery in front of me.
Categories:
pinks, dark, light, night, sky,
Form:
Quatorzain
The routine ride home from a neighboring town, seemed different today.
As I glanced at the dirty, sandy spot left on the usually spotless black leather seat beside me,
I felt almost ashamed of the warm smile that crossed my face..
But that's how I felt.
Content some how.......
No radio blaring as usual. Just thinking of Ernie and his stories.
Wondering what that look was, I saw deep in his eyes.
Scared eyes..yet not scary. Eyes that had seen too much maybe, who couldn't seem to find home.
The cardboard sign simply said east. He was sitting atop a dirty, dark roll of gathered belongings at the only stop light in town. It was one of those sunrises that make you feel small. Pinks..purples..glassy blue..sun rays shooting through scattered clouds like golden fingers pointing straight to heaven. As I sat waiting for the light to change, I noticed this guy noticed it too! I don't see many hitchhikers in our small town and the words pounded into my head since birth kept ringing over and over. Never talk to strangers...don't do it!
Ernie is sitting next to me holding his dirty rolled up blanket protectively in his lap and
I'm at the drive through at McDonald's. Three sausage biscuits please..I take mine and hand the bag to Ernie who looked like a skeleton lost under layers of old wrinkled clothes. Kind, hollow eyes thank me as he rolls the top of the bag down tightly and asks if he can please save his for later. I can't speak and hope he doesn't notice tears running down my cheeks. He must , for he breaks the silence by telling me of his years on the road, although I didn't ask. He speaks intelligently of the sights and places I've always intended to visit some day. His words bring to life the adventures of meeting all kinds of people - good and bad - all over the country, but Ernie didn't tell me why he lived life on the road.
Later, he shook my hand and said goodbye.
As he stood there, that last look we shared..he smiled - I cried.
I thought I was going to help a lonely man, but he helped me........
©Donna Jones
10-16-2013
Categories:
pinks, introspection, loneliness,
Form:
Free verse
Bracken breached hawthorn hedgerows
hide teeny folk with tiny toes.
Sheer gossamer wings; shy butterflies
Dew-drops lit by dawning skies.
Sandy hair, blue raven locks
Auburn streaks on chestnut stalks
Valley lilies invert to hats
Wee portabella mushroom caps.
Acorn shoes with resin soles
Lace gartered legs and leafy shawls
Dresses spun from brushed lime silk,
petal pinks, or white as milk.
Impish grins stoke laughing smiles.
whimsy’s sound sets music’s tiles
Curious eyes, small budded nose
cream tinted skin, pink cheeks aglow.
They live near boles of ancient trees
Drink nectar from a hollowed seed
They climb the stems of hollyhocks
They twitter but will rarely talk.
So when you take a morning stroll
pause beside to a sun-lit knoll
The calls you hear mightn’t be birds
and cricket strums won’t mimic words.
Categories:
pinks, fantasy, imagination,
Form:
Couplet
The mountain peaks in colored sugar coat
Of pinks and blues and lilac violet hues
The sky, just before sunrise, all windless and clear
The day is misty, bitter cold, and crystal sheen
But I am warmed by one small ray of golden morning light
From high upon a perch of snow top crest
A lone stag with graceful legs that fly
Carving out a quiet trail, like fleeting wind
The sound so soft, the hush of whispered steps
He halts, and looks at me with logic's eyes
And seems to smile in recognition,
His golden crown of antlers, gleam in morning sun
Just when I thought my crystal world would splinter
He tilts his head, and bids me to come
And like an eagle's wing, remote and sure
He darts away, just like a bird
Without a sound
Beauty of the wind....beauty of pure grace
I run after him, panting and breathless,
Through the glimmering, in search of answers
But, I cannot keep up, as he disappears without a trace
And still not wringing the answers from the slightest sound
Yet, I am left alone, and feel at peace
For Constance's Contest: The Nature Dream/Spirtual Dream
Carrie Richards
Categories:
pinks, fantasy, imagination, natureme, morning,
Form:
Narrative
Where clover grows and rivers wind
Across green meadows, daisies find
A honeycomb"s sweet pattern weaves
Around the tulips graceful sleeves
In pastel clouds of blue combined
With pinks and purples unconfined
Yellow following close behind
And winter's sister takes her leave
Where clover grows
As hummingbirds and bees remind
Cruel April also can be kind
Wings bloom as butterflies believe
A warmer land offers reprieve
And spring arrives in sunlit minds
Where clover grows.
4/30/22
Categories:
pinks, flower, nature, spring,
Form:
Rondeau
HEAVENLY JOY
As Spring returns joyfully for all,
A life-giving energy returns,
“ To all creatures great and small,
The Lord God Made them all.”
The prettiest trees with blossoms
Are fruit trees,
“He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell,
How great is the Almighty,
Who has made all things well.”
Some trees crave for warmth,
To say goodbye to bitter days,
And welcome golden days of sun
Which have begun
From time immeasurable.
“The cold winds in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.”
Fruit trees are prissy,
Radiant princesses
Who bloom and burst,
Their seeds dispersed
By creatures of every kind,
Becoming blossoms of
Vivacious pinks, crimson delights,
Delectable orange, virgin white,
Breath taking lilacs and purples,
And Lemon spirited yellow.
Their fertile blossoms pollinated
By both birds and bees,
Which every moment do they seize,
To turn these trees into a heavenly sight,
Under our African sun so bright,
Each tree surrounds
It’s fruit with emerald, green leaves,
Protecting them from harm and thieves,
Watered by the heavens,
“The Lord God made them all.”
For humankind to be enthralled.
Words and verses taken from the Hymn “ THINGS BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL”
Categories:
pinks, heaven,
Form:
Free verse
My three-year-old son stood next to me
as I watered our garden of flowers
The zinnias nodded their blossoms
As if grateful for garden hose showers
A firework array, was that garden display
Of pinks, yellows, orange,
Purple, red
When my son asked the cutest of
Questions to me
In the darlingest way ever said
As he eyed that large bumbling bee
That he found alarmingly too close to me
Not quite in fear, as its buzzing drew near
And it sampled of pollens so dear
But at his first sight of that yellow bright fuzz
And the loud droning volume of that giant bee's buzz
He just needed to know all was right
He asked
"Mommy? Do humming bee's bite?"
Categories:
pinks, child, garden,
Form:
Rhyme
In the forest of my dreams
where Divine light shines through
Seeing prisms of spectacular beauty
of pinks, mauve and cornflower blue
The wind whispers through the trees
generating a sublime sweet tune
Gently blowing away all stressors
wrapping you in a blissful cocoon
Filtered sunlight will kiss your skin
Illuminating warmth will cleanse your soul
Filling you with peacefulness and love
making your being amazingly whole
Pungent smells will engulf your senses
exhilarating you from head to toe
While song birds a sweet melody
Euphoria in you will enormously grow
Please join me in my forest of dreams
let serenity fill the recesses of your heart
Your essence will be unbelievably renewed
My dream forest you'll never want to part
Categories:
pinks, happiness, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Have you ever thrown a day away?
There are many more, as you would say
There's always been and long shall be
tomorrows lining up for me
What guarantee have you or I
this very night we shall not die?
Tomorrow comes bringing her best
while you and I are laid to rest
Loved ones, friends and families mourn
those, who from their lives were torn
Blue skies and sun indifferent to
the grief and tears for me and you
New days are not for all to see
That is the only guarantee
Precious life was never meant
to be so tragically misspent
We go round and round through countless days
at pointless tasks in foolish ways
as we try to fill up empty holes
at the very center of our souls
And all the while missing out
on what it's really all about
That life's a gift for you to share
with friends and neighbors everywhere
And just who would your neighbors be?
Why, anyone that you can see
Each soul is precious to the One
Who gave it life under the sun
Friendship, love and laughter are
greater gifts than gold by far
And one should always find a way
to bring these things to each new day
Once it's gone you'll never see
a day return to you or me
And like a precious soul sublime
forever lost in mists of time
Awake! And savor each new dawn
Breathe deep the scent of new mown lawn
And with some favor from above
share it with the one you love
Join hands and walk through morning dew
Lie in the grass, your love by you
Take in the dazzling beauty of
the golds and pinks and blues above
And finally with humility
in the midst of this tranquility
give thanks to God for all He's done
and the greatest gift of all, His Son
And afterwards I'd like to see
you come and spend your day with me
And in the end we both can say
we never threw a day away
Categories:
pinks, inspirational, life, perspective, spiritual,
Form:
Rhyme