Pink poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best pink poems ever written. Read all poems about pink.
I am really shocked to behold the pink city
Blood when flows near by the green field
From the ill fatted souls of their mother’s womb
Tear when turns red eyes yet steeped in sorrows
"They are fools who kiss and tell" --
Wisely has the poet sung.
Man may hold all sorts of posts
If he'll only hold his tongue.
Frequently the wood are pink—
Frequently are brown.
So Davies wrote: ' This leaves me in the pink. '
Then scrawled his name: ' Your loving sweetheart Willie '
With crosses for a hug. He'd had a drink
Of rum and tea; and, though the barn was chilly,
Feather light wings that float softly through the air tickled by specks of dust.
Bright white light inflamed with pink and laced with gold.
Raising flowers, changing seasons,
singing in high pitched voices that only children can hear.
From whispers to heavy noise
My art of love as it melted
In fine connections invisible
From below the arch of brow
I’m a restless and corrupted one
Hoping for eternal darkness
And an end to they bright shining sun
Pink pants and rosy plants
Pink blouses, never failing to arouse spouses
Pink hot feverish lips
Pink ribbons span the evening sky
And trim your feathered bed
Now I will sing a lullaby
Lay down your sleepy head
She must have be strong in facing her life when she was out of blue
When she felt poor in yellow
It was really hard until I saw her beet red
She must struggle in giving Her children tickled pink
Pink, It's A Girl! and all the joy she will bring
Pink, a rosebud blooming in the spring
Pink lemonade so tangy and sweet
Pink a swirl of frosting, oh what a treat
her blouse, flowing on the wind
her shining golden hair
People say my personality is perky, many seem to find me intriguing;
And I greatly enjoy being popular, as I don't find society fatiguing.
Having traveled to myriad places, I have seen many beautiful sights,
Come with a smile, come with a wink
Come to the land of pink pink pink!
For though my best color is emerald green
my 2nd favorite happens to be pink.
Autumn is abundant, infuses, and bemuses; it is pregnant with fruit; but it prognosticates the decay: Autumn is a marvellous display of death! The eye-of-the-bull chrysanthemum stares at you with the autumn's orange stare, in a hypnotic anticipation of perfidious putrefaction: it suggests that it is the time to prepare the marrow in your bones for the frozen times of eternal hibernation: the bleak, albic terrain of desolation and damnation. It says bend on your glacial knees, and pray for spring to de-congeal your static blood: go back into the forest and eat eagerly wild-strawberries and horn-fruit, and spit into the ground the pips of your frigid dreams!
Autumn is the hungry Earth, with its earthly colours of grave, craving the manure, the compost of your flesh, blood, and bones; it eats your veneration: (your body, which, you thought is your possession!) : this Terra is a terrific terror! —Do not worry about your spirit: —it has wings! Birds die in the sky whilst still flying: you are a bird! —Smell the earth! You will return with a body made to be devoured again by the vulture-earth; nothing apocalyptic: you will live, again—and again, for thousands of years: —you are truly immortal—defying Thanatos!
turning pink hydrangeas blue the newspaper caption read,
depending on the soil (it said) ..., but in my head a childhood quandry solved for once and all
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