Moulin Poems - Poems about Moulin

Moulin Rouge The greens and pinks magnetize to my eye Like flowers abloom, in a field espied That overwhelms creation’s invention With beauty of grandiose dimension, Shifting to the wind’s orchestrated movements, And winks my soul agape by the performance To be delighted by the extravaganza presented. To see the hand, relax in the moment, To take stock and enjoy the portrayal Of gist and...

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O sunflower Helianthus thy Name The internet for Writing, strange game My love for Helianthus Annuus, came With Morning Muse. then CONFUSE-ion Not on the site, lost in cyberspace Meanwhile new cultivars of sunflower Are amazingly done in the US God be praised for flowers, that give and give Yes, an annual, dies when cold, but reseeds Itself -- feeds us good seed-- Glory...

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Lets go to Paris' finest venue. Lets go enjoy the ride. Where the skirts fly high, and the gentlemen dressed in black tie. Follow me behind the red curtain. Experience this life. Where the dancers entertain you, and there's no strife. Venez au Moulin Rouge, and be apart what you dreamed of. Feathers that drift, Diamonds that sparkle in the light. That you'll wanna stay all...

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I awaken; the darkened skies my alarm clock I reek of whiskey, scotch and pastis Tumbling out of bed, I reach for a cigarette The dusk harkens as I rise to ply my trade I am embodied inside a one room flat The nightlife and the ladies both coming to life Out the window I see the windmill so famous in...

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Ghost of Le Moulin Between Fabrezan to Tournasay where the cruel Cers wind blows, Lie’s maison le Moulin amongst the wine groves. Every year on certain night you can hear a child calling, twould cause a fright, She’s the Ghost of le Moulin. The villagers all know it and a man with a gun, spent the night there but didn’t he run. It’s hairy and scary a...

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Moulin Rouge The Moulin Rouge of minds is intertwined with mine, And though my heart denies my soul aligns alive. The opera always soaring, the show it must go on, Yet little voices in my head shout push on, push on, push on. Tossle feathers flash, skirts in black and gold and Rumours flutter through the mills like warm air...

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