We feel the future though we might not realize it. We make it and then we live it. Then we get what
we want, or we might get something else that, you don't know if you'll like it, or get something you know you won't like. Then you just leave it up to providence. To walk through the park of life or get thrown to the wolves, (like me), either way you become who you were meant to be, someone who can be free and happy to be alive and loving and being loved across this grand world...like the many who already have and who have just passed to you... the baton rouge of life!
Rouge on old grey skin
lustre trying to conceal
yet exposes flaws
ROUGE
powder
cosmetic
a geisha softens
her stark pale complexion
subtly adding warmth to cheeks
“a carnation in the teahouse”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The Moulin Rouge at Night
At night, the Moulin Rouge bursts into life
with orchestrated music and bright lights,
where singers and cancan dancers excite
audiences who applaud them with delight,
and is a splendid place to patronize
for entertainment when in Paris, France,
where, by happenstance, people may unite
seeking merriment or discrete romance.
***
Palo Alto-Baton Rouge
Every Compliment
Is A Plea For Compliance
An Expectation Of
Rewarding Response.
ASMR With Tender Fingers
And A Pretty Stick
Across Your Bare And
Tender Supple Skin.
Whelp! Whelp! Whelp!
With A Sweet Carrot
Kiss To Every Nostril
Carefully Planted.
-Gray Squirrel
06-21-2025
If red is your favourite colour,
Then let there be blood in the sky,
Bleed out would I,
Just to appease your preferences,
Plant one million roses,
As the lavender decomposes,
Just to indulge your eyes.
Ruby rivers cover silver streams,
I could not comprehend even in dreams,
What I would do for that scarlet shade,
Saturating my days, it is not afraid,
To discolour my vision,
‘Twas a lie of omission,
To make you my perfect rouge.
Nonchalant Rouge
By Maui Sanders
Absence of affection
Is not a sore ditch
Film reels
And family memories
Even though I may not
Have one
In my mind, I am a warrior
Who is learning
How to be of an object
To people on a pursuit to
Win the trophy
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 to God
Who made each & every flower, with variety
Only Russia today, seems to hate variation
But we learn from Hitler & Putin, never PUT IN
This universe whatever lies in your heart
Learn from Nature (Jesus, too) the giving ART
God must be playing marbles with the planets...
It's Earth's turn to be in the palm of his loving hand.
For millennia, mankind had its chance at the loom.
Endless wars, lust, and greed are all he could weave.
Now we're perched between God's thumb and forefinger.
Soon he'll flick us to the outer edges of his patience.
Branded a cold and hopeless snot ball of darkness.
As he reaches for another sphere, rouged with potential.
you were not live
died in the womb
before I could hold you
at birth and kiss your soul
my little princess
the moon in your heart
that failed to beat
tore the promise
of peace innocence desire
to walk by my side
and I grieve
In my younger youth, this color was sort of appalling for me. I did not fancy nails with decorations. I was not raised around it. Now I prefer to have black nails or some kind of warrior looking paint.
A friend of mine asked a teacher if he could see her bare feet. He told her no. As a curious adolescent, I looked down to see her feet. Her feet were pretty and she read polish on her toes. Since that day, I have been fond of the color red. My friend was pretty and from the pictures of today I can see her pretty smile, rosy cheeks, and covered chest showing two humble mountains. Her name was Amber Garcia.
Cambodia
Prison camp S-21
Angkar kills but does not explain
your blood bleeds into my veins
so I can feel your pains
whatever god you pray to
beg for deliverance.
in the good old USA we are
unaware of unseen suffering.
Usually but not always.
we met at a wedding and
you shared your story
in broken English until
I understood that you
had been in the killing fields.
The night time went rouge
Wouldn't you know
Stepped out of the dark
Hitting the road
Finding out how
To weave in and out
From the still of itself
Without any doubt
I took a-hold of the night
Read it its Rights
Don't come again
Till after day light
This sneaking you do
Round about noon
Really is not
Very becoming of you
Where upon the night said to me
I can do as I please
Be who I want
This country is free
You're wasting your time
If you're trying to find
Some way or another
Of controlling my life
So that's why we are
Now all where we are
As the night took a bite
Instead of just bark
Knocked the daylight
Right out of the park
Where now we remain
All in the dark...
MICE AND ME by Jeanette Jones (01.11.2016)
based on PORTRAIT NO 8
L'Enfant au Tablier Rouge, 1886 by Berthe Morisot
MICE AND ME
Inside my lonely room, I dream.
Old man winter’s stamped his mark
across the fields and mountain tops.
The faint breeze through my window,
allows a brush of his presence on my face,
this makes everything ok.
Scuffling across the floor, tiny mice
whimper in the same sultry air;
an old soul, mom calls me,
for allowing them here,
to dream in my space and share my air.
To reach the sill,
I allow them to climb my red ribbon,
if they can catch it in the wind.
brewing divinity
rosé rouge
on Rose Rose Rose
mystic landscape
eyes cheeks nose smile silk
Rose Rose Rose
god delighted
horto flos
ROSES ROSES ROSES - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Mystic Rose
POET: Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
15 December 2014
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