Blush Poems - Poems about Blush

Forged from the elements of Mother Earth, mindful is our touch, each emote gentle, dwelling in heart always bubbling with mirth, resting thought flow and all concepts mental, love the currency to pay life’s rental. In body temple, making eye single, heart delights when bliss pheromones mingle....

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He took her to the beach And he said , I want a ice cream? She smiled and said ok. When she returns back , she can't found him She called his name and run throughout the beach, When she find him, She cried and hugged him, He said I'm here, I don't leave you. Then he said, I don't want to...

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a rose softly blooms petals blush with sweet whispers hearts in union beat beneath the moon’s tender glow love’s promise lingers ever ...

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Each morning brings with it the light of hope. ...

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Push and pull, life’s game inane, fleeting joy, lingering pain; a strange darkness where we dwell, holed up in body-mind shell. We wish to have right of way, in this form doomed to decay and it’s only when death nears, oblivion heightens fears. Fast forward to point of death, the moment of our last breath; knowing not where we’re headed and to whom we’ll be...

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I cherished time walking through Cherry Blossoms, And when it is to turn pink, it’s mind-blowing. It’s like a pink rug situated on both sides in Kyoto, Experiencing the Promised Land while having Cotto. I love observing the farmland plowing, The fields appreciate him by bowing. I am dismayed at the strangers who see me trespass, Imagine them complaining so...

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This is where I hide, A secret garden Cool and quiet- Where words rest in safe space. Here I can write out those wary, hidden thoughts That come out with insight- Aware, half awake, they fly out. Caught by surprise, Flushed OUT from cozy comfort zone... Disturbance kick start with real life shock starts my heart with blush brush. Aqua Marine. Posted: Friday, 15th...

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The instrument of mind conjures a verse, based on a rhythm that rises from the heart, so whilst it can perform better or worse, each symbol portrayed is a work of art. Polarised strobes of light communicate in this earth realm by employing the word, medium dual, so who knows the fate of the fragrance emitted when heart stirred? Yet be this...

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The world still sleeps at dawn's first blush when trilling birds tickle my ear. I welcome the dirge of a thrush as sunlight's tepid breath draws near. When trilling birds tickle my ear and morning skies are pastel pink, I dip my feathered quill in ink. I welcome the dirge of a thrush helping his mate to build a nest. It's the time...

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Waking from deep sleep every morn, centred in the cave of our heart, before the flow of thought forms start, in time stretched calm, ego is shorn. As of soul’s choice we remain still, doing nothing, poised in the void, our pristine presence unalloyed, imbibes boons of grace to heart’s fill. Attentive awareness alert, cognises pulse of magnetism, cascading within feeble form and as bliss continues...

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fear not just blink overthink not delink ego...

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slow, slower and slower yet still we be a butterfly floating in the air carefree the ripples that arise we behold in surprise embracing and releasing on a bended knee...

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Walk swiftly away from burning streets follow a willow to the pulse of a stream- Take up your oils and sable tipped brushes soften jagged shadows and thorns on the blush- Be as a twig drifting down silver dreaming into sapphire eternity where cherubs never weep. Fly far-far away from imploding heads tie dye sweet memories with the gratefully dead. Sweep...

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a divine sight once beheld was by memory recalled by our ego thus seeking the influx of grace was stalled why wallow in the shallows when the ocean calls to soul be still oh worthy hermit that God’s touch may make us whole...

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our heart murmurs listen to it soul speaks softly gentle each touch heighten focus that love agape sparkles within...

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