The slow budding, turn up of coloring; the tincture
in pinks, yellows, magnolia greens, and bluer skies.
Smile of eyes and mountain cheeks; a Springtime elixir.
Winter white and tawny skin absorbing sunny dyes.
She leans against the grand old oak, invoking a look.
The umbrella will soon cascade; lithe limbs of plush green.
School days, encroaching on playtime’s evergreen yearbook.
Cassie’s sleeveless wardrobe contrasts with season; serene.
The dandelions coaxing; red-rosiness of hair.
A dew-like rain gently tickles; surging honey bees.
This robin hums sweetly; will she meet harmony; pair.
John joins her freckles dot-to-dot; his eyes lemon squeeze.
All about them, in the park, a buzz and tweet; sweethearts.
They could meet; is he even in her class? Matters not.
She stands out in due season; perhaps when Summer starts?
Linger not, John, till Fall-Winter season; take a shot!
Categories:
rosiness, crush, spring,
Form: Rhyme
nocturnal retreat
mauve tackles midnight
lavender echoes whisper ~
song of the rooster
curly coral clouds
dressed in a burnished bronze blush ~
ebony snoozes
round rosiness yawns
in wispy gossamer hush ~
the sweet scent of pink
puffy plumes of gold
like lush heavenly spindrift ~
nocturnal retreat
6/6/23
Categories:
rosiness, day, morning, night,
Form: Haiku
All nebulous dreams prospecting,
A hideaway in cloud atolls,
A nightly ocean, warmth awaiting,
In quibbling flow, to dawn's aperture
In spectra falling, spectral play crumbled,
Sojourner stars: their lamps parole
In a distance, behind amnesic lights
Razing autumn clouds, amber hues galore!
Cloud heaths, like bosom steaming
Of shying lovers in meeting pour
Whom expectations, sunrays in flurry,
The sky makes dawn red, and Sun allures
The air, in restless breeze cavorting,
By promised things which procure
A blushful pink, on allusion's canvas,
The whimsy sky in homely warmth pleasured
Into a fecund rosiness, its secrets goaded,
Flee from shadowed swathes: staid, demure;
And where played curt poem, autumn moon;
Is a sky by the the bold and brash secured
Categories:
rosiness, fate, life,
Form: Free verse
The evening clear, but moonless, with watchful eyes
Appear impenetrable through the city
Drawing attention to street lights rosiness
night out with my date
Giddy spirits, move on for one more sweet song
Swiftly dipping honey into our solo
Blaring base music beat flow down to our feet
we danced to the beat
The wind would blow alluring strands of our soul
Seductively weaving like a candle flame
It danced provocatively fondled the depth
left us contented
A breath, a rosy blushing dawn appearing
To slumber, under shadows of hidden walls
In whisper snores in unruffled engagement
we sleep until noon
7/18/2020
STRAND completely new (12) any theme any form' Contest Info
Sponsored by Brian Strand
NOT for Edward's contest just Brian's contest
Categories:
rosiness, dance, love, night,
Form: Sapphic stanza
Do you ever just feel,
Like you don't belong,
This planet just crushing you,
Into its own shape.
Do you ever just feel,
Like you don't fit in this world,
Society overwhelming your senses.
Like somewhere else,
Far out there,
Beyond the clouds,
And the sky,
Beyond the brightly lit moon,
And the glimmering star-lights,
Something, something is calling your name.
And you whisper,
Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight,
Take me home, show me home,
My soul aches to see its home.
Your eyes watering,
the rosiness of your cold cheeks,
Salting the seas of your eyes.
You breath, and the air does not feel right,
You see, And the colors,
They don't seem bright enough,
Your eyes don't see far enough,
Everything just feels off.
Take me home,
You whisper till you sleep,
And the night carries you,
Deep into dreams.
Categories:
rosiness, beautiful, planet,
Form: Free verse
In essence and of the essence,
Immanent and fundamental unit of my life,
A substance of every gene inherent,
Is quintessence of your love .
A prismatic flower that blossoms in my heart,
Blush on face, rosiness, vigor and enthusiasm,
How can I evade its eternal cologne,
Is essence of your love.
A hormonic in my mind and soul,
Root of chord that resonates to the tune of music,
A cardinal rule intrinsic, cannot escape the melody,
Is essence of your love.
Part and parcel of my being that ever exists,
Resilient in my nature of the beast,
The nub of every story that enchants,
Is essence of your love.
Written by Dr. Upma A. Sharma
On 30/1/14
Now entered for contest "Your best love poem#2" by SKAT A
Categories:
rosiness, love,
Form: Rhyme
distant hill
a river carrying
the spring
waters of spring
father backstrokes
into healthiness
spring drizzle
the bipinnate leaves
fold into shyness
spring day
spots of rosiness
in the bud
spring morning
a rose wallah
dresses a boquet
Categories:
rosiness, spring,
Form: Haiku
The new lips do not pride
The old philosophical sense, only the rosiness
Games, hysterically arouse,
For those who would keep the lips
Before they start to drink, the empty
Brain of a rider star.
The new lips do not care
Brings an ancient's mirth,
Now not even God on the beach,
The struggle by those invisible speakers
Before we can reach twenty and one.
Beneath this shame, the hungry for more nonsense
And pain the attempt to lamps us
As a pair of humans, worrying about sex
Warning you that you soon will be a Daddy
Or an old man but life is still on a bunch of fragrance and wine.
The new lips do not love
The perfect thing, dead or alive, cares less;
Hardest made for a past worker,
By the golden madness; the men who have done
It for us, the trouble aged leader.
Just as nobody care or worry less, dissolving himself
Into a dateless whirl
With trust and dust and death insurance,
You shall stand up your attention
For other who perhaps can go more farther than him.
Categories:
rosiness, dream, mystery, old, old,
Form: Free verse
Mid-life street woman from red town
she was...I grew up with her under
mango trees now softly drooping
their shoulders much like hers.. but she,
still contoured like a Paul Gauguin urn, is wrapped
in arms lovely in flesh and heat: fanned banana
leaves swaying to samba notes while cooking
fried bamboo roots; her fragrance buzzing along
summer's exotic beat. How she then pinched
my cheeks with her tapered fingers still
pink on veins floating through her quivering
body…
Somehow, she gave me this epiphany of touch;
the slow wave of body rhythm lightly fondling
the rosiness of my adolescent skin. If i knew how
to pivot in the wakening garlands of Latin
steps, it was her ample hips winding and bellying
in nights and morns of her own wanton sashays...
Oh how I long to climb her mango tree,
her waxing then waning shape still blazing among
bursting seeds of female treachery or finery.
I tell myself, there is no age when her fire sways
in places where tropical eyes dazzle with her
near flowing, soaking limbs…so tenderly
wild because she, Livia, nymph of the forest raw,
has nothing else to lose.
©
for Debbie's Women, and SKAT's Poem #2
by nette onclaud
Categories:
rosiness, passion, people,
Form: Free verse
I rose up from my bed, feeling better than I have in weeks;
With energy that has been absent, feeling rosiness in my cheeks.
I felt like I could dance and waltzed across the floor,
Twirling an imaginary partner I danced and waltzed some more.
I was light on my feet, feeling like I was floating in the air;
The shortness of breath I’ve had - no longer was it there.
Then suddenly I realized, there were people watching me,
How they came to be in my room was a total mystery.
I started recognizing faces of people from my past;
Some of whom it was many years since I’d seen them last.
Their faces were aglow; they smiled from cheek to cheek;
I turned back toward my hospital bed – where my body laid in its final sleep.
I felt an initial shock, mixed with panic and some fear,
When the meaning of my feeling good to me had become clear.
Then a nurse walked in my room and my pulse she tried to take;
She turned off all the monitors and covered up my face.
I felt a tapping on my shoulder and recognized her at first glance;
My wife who passed four years ago asked, “May I have this dance?”
Categories:
rosiness, death, lifepeople, people,
Form: Rhyme
Swaddled
in an Afghan
woven by my step grandmother's
thin spindly fingers,
I am
warmer than the womb
then the
pale yellow grey
wall paper
that
seems to surround
and wobble
like the water globe
on my dresser.
Above,
I see
my mothers face,
round,
soft,
tallow cheeks,
I want to squeeze them
pull the rosiness,
into my small palms
and eat it up.
Categories:
rosiness, caregiving, childhood, mother, nostalgia,
Form: Free verse