Best Pink Poems

This girlchild was born as usual
and presented dolls that did pee-pee
and miniature GE stoves and irons
and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
...

Love is...

Love is feeling cold in the back of vans
...

Anyone here had a go at themselves
for a laugh? Anyone opened their wrists
with a blade in the bath? Those in the dark
at the back, listen hard. Those at the front
...

Your lungs fill & spread themselves,
wings of pink blood, and your bones
empty themselves and become hollow.
When you breathe in you’ll lift like a balloon
...

Heartaches will never last nor will they ever stay;
sorrow shall go so fast in the passing of day.
Once in a little while, one's heart may break and bleed;
abandoned by the smile, his teardrops want to plead.
...

Before dawn wind rushes
driving night’s chill westward
so vestiges of darkness
send shivers along my spine.
...

The Microbe is so very small
You cannot make him out at all,
But many sanguine people hope
To see him through a microscope.
...

The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.
...

My shadow said to me:
what is the matter
...

The abode of the nightingale is bare,
Flowered frost congeals in the gelid air,
The fox howls from his frozen lair:
Alas, my loved one is gone,
...

When storm-clouds rumble in the sky and June showers come down.
The moist east wind comes marching over the heath to blow its
bagpipes among the bamboos.
Then crowds of flowers come out of a sudden, from nobody knows
...

I'm thinking about you. What else can I say?
The palm trees on the reverse
are a delusion; so is the pink sand.
What we have are the usual
...

In winter we’ll travel in a little pink carriage
With cushions of blue.
We’ll be fine. A nest of mad kisses waits
In each corner too.
...

My quietness has a man in it, he is transparent
and he carries me quietly, like a gondola, through the streets.
He has several likenesses, like stars and years, like numerals.
...

The chirp of birds in the early morning
Bless my smiles with their innocent calling
I head outside with my blanket wrapped around
And lay there listening to this memorable sound.
...

She blew five candles
On her cake, angel
In a pink dress, hair
In little pigtails
...

If you had come away with me
into another state
we had been quiet together.
But there the sun coming up
...

I plucked pink blossoms from mine apple tree
And wore them all that evening in my hair:
Then in due season when I went to see
I found no apples there.
...

The sun sets on the horizon from the distant land,
Where birds chirp and couples lay hand in hand.
I look at the sun to say goodbye,
To the beautiful colours that paint the sky.
...

Among the blight-killed eucalypts, among
trees and bushes rusted by Christmas frosts,
the yards and hillsides exhausted by five years of drought,
...

On the tidal mud, just before sunset,
dozens of starfishes
were creeping. It was
as though the mud were a sky
...

She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
...

I am a little pink Rose!
I bloomed to see
This beautiful world,
To enjoy the monsoon,
...

All different colours absorbed in as VIBGYOR,
Choice different but they are choice of yours,
Colours do form part of our life and aim,
Not particular choice of colour we can claim,
...

It is winter in California, and outside
Is like the interior of a florist shop:
A chilled and moisture-laden crop
Of pink camellias lines the path; and what
...

Blue, but you are Rose, too,
and buttermilk, but with blood
dots showing through.
A little salty your white
...

There was a time when in late afternoon
The four-o'clocks would fold up at day's close
Pink-white in prayer, and 'neath the floating moon
I lay with them in calm and sweet repose.
...

Why do you follow me?—
Any moment I can be
Nothing but a laurel-tree.
...

I am ill today but I am not
too ill. I am not ill at all.
It is a perfect day, warm
for winter, cold for fall.
...

My wife's new pink slippers
have gay pompons.
There is not a spot or a stain
on their satin toes or their sides.
...

The fox pushes softly, blindly through me at night,
between the liver and the stomach. Comes to the heart
and hesitates. Considers and then goes around it.
Trying to escape the mildness of our violent world.
...

His awful skin
stretched out by some tradesman
is like my skin, here between my fingers,
a kind of webbing, a kind of frog.
...

Some ghosts are women,
neither abstract nor pale,
their breasts as limp as killed fish.
...

Last night, walked down the garden
Noticed myriad colors on the rosebushes,
Darling, said mom,
which is for you.
...

May I never cease to wonder:
At the cascading crystal blue waters
Of the waterfall; at each new dawn's
Sweet sunbursts of flesh pink magic.
...

Song of the Prettybird:

I've lived 20 prettybird years
Of this great big prettybird life
...

That is the current that makes machinery, that makes it crackle,
what is the current that presents a long line and a necessary waist. What is this current.
...

He dresses her in pastel satin
Hair trimmed with matching bows
And every time he looks at her
How his face with pride just glows
...

With B.E.F. Jun 10. Dear Wife,
(Oh blast this pencil. 'Ere, Bill, lend's a knife.)
I'm in the pink at present, dear.
I think the war will end this year.
...

The sun is smiling as I open my eyes
Birds serenading the awoken sky.
I watch from my window the sun climbing a hill
Spreading its glimmer so beautiful.
...

Give away her gowns,
Give away her shoes;
She has no more use
For her fragrant gowns;
...

Millions were dead; everybody was innocent.
I stayed in my room. The President
Spoke of war as of a magic love potion.
My eyes were opened in astonishment.
...

O you away high there,
you that lean
From amber lattices upon the cobalt night,
I am below amid the pine trees,
...

Who set, between those rocks like cinder,
to show the honey of dream,
that golden broom,
those blue rosemaries?
...

Give me a golden pen, and let me lean
On heaped-up flowers, in regions clear, and far;
Bring me a tablet whiter than a star,
Or hand of hymning angel, when 'tis seen
...

School is over. It is too hot
to walk at ease. At ease
in light frocks they walk the streets
to while the time away.
...

Winter's last rose; rose of regret:
O how once your radiant beauty
Shimmered in summer's potent hour.
Now your faded petals offer,
...

Sometimes I wonder
What should be the colour of love?
Colours like red, blue, green all occupied
Yellow, brown and pink all well defined
...

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
...

The blue forest, chilled and blue, like the lips of the dead
if the lips were gone. The year has been cut in half
with dull scissors, the solstice still looking for its square
on the calendar. Perhaps the scissors were really
...

22

All these my banners be.
I sow my pageantry
...

A Pigeon preening
pinions most of the time-
Obsess with body.
...

My eyes look at horizons and not blink
Heart skips a bit, refuses to obey and sink
Face turns pale from colour pink
Endless struggle and so much to think
...

Don't listen to me; my heart's been broken.
I don't see anything objectively.

I know myself; I've learned to hear like a psychiatrist.
...

The solitary huntsman
No coat of pink doth wear,
But midnight black from cap to spur
Upon his midnight mare.
...

My dumpy little mother on the undertaker's slab
had a mannequin's grace. From chin to foot
the sheet outlined her, thin and tall. Her face
uptilted, bloodless, smooth, had a long smile.
...

Edges of fluffy clouds are tinted pink
As Sun sets and Portulacca folds its lips.
Taking Nature’s cue, I slow down my pace.
Go back home to the rhythm of my breath.
...

Jealousy haunts golden lily,
Watching the riverside lady,
Angelic ebullient eyes unwary
Of the orchids stare and envy;
...

You come with naked body
As natural as flower
With pink rose face and fists closed
You cried in full and all laughed at you
...

A boy told me
if he roller-skated fast enough
his loneliness couldn't catch up to him,
...

What is pink? a rose is pink
By a fountain's brink.
What is red? a poppy's red
In its barley bed.
...

So let me have the rouge again,
And comb my hair the curly way.
The poor young men, the dear young men
They'll all be here by noon today.
...

Sleepmonger,
deathmonger,
with capsules in my palms each night,
eight at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles
...

“Why am I not myself these many days,
You ask? And have you nothing more to ask?
I do you wrong? I do not hear your praise
To God for giving you me to share your task?
...

Every year Emily Dickinson sent one friend
the first arbutus bud in her garden.
...

You love the roses - so do I. I wish
The sky would rain down roses, as they rain
From off the shaken bush. Why will it not?
Then all the valley would be pink and white
...

"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.
...

Genial poets, pink-faced
earnest wits—
you have given the world
some choice morsels,
...

"Don't overdo it," Dad yelled, watching me
Play shortstop, collect stamps and shells,
Roll on the grass laughing until I peed my pants.
"Screw him," I said, and grabbed every cowry
...

i always work to pay the loan
you only see me running or on the phone
i work all the time even at dawn
i have my money so I`m not alone
...

Baby, sweet baby, with tears in your eyes
Rest your head gently, there's no need to cry,
Come let me sing you a soft lullaby
The sandman is coming and dreamland is nigh;
...

My garden blossoms pink and white,
A place of decorous murmuring,
Where I am safe from August night
And cannot feel the knife of Spring.
...

Her brown falcon perches above the sink
as steaming water forks over my hands.
Below the wrists they shrivel and turn pink.
I am in exile in my own land.
...

This section is a Christmas tree:
Loaded with pretty toys for you.
Behold the blocks, the Noah's arks,
The popguns painted red and blue.
...

I love jelly beans,
all but the black ones, they’re yucky.

Red ones trade best.
...

A humble wild-rose, pink and slender,
Was plucked and placed in a bright bouquet,
Beside a Jacqueminot’s royal splendour,
And both in my lady’s boudoir lay.
...

Some women marry houses.
It's another kind of skin; it has a heart,
...

You are so serious, as if
a glacier spoke in your ear
or you had to walk through
the great gate of Kiev
...

Silver coins beside the origin
The eyes of pearls in margin
Wearisome looks over me
Originated a margin we.
...

THE little white clouds are racing over the sky,
And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March,
The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch
Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.
...

_The Child-World--long and long since lost to view--
A Fairy Paradise!--
How always fair it was and fresh and new--
...

Minnie and Winnie
Slept in a shell.
Sleep, little ladies!
And they slept well.
...

my mother pushed my sister out of the apartment door with an empty
suitcase because she kept threatening to run away my sister was sick of me
getting the best of everything the bathrobe with the pink stripes instead of
the red the soft middle piece of bread while she got the crust I was sick with
...

Just now the lilac is in bloom,
All before my little room;
And in my flower-beds, I think,
Smile the carnation and the pink;
...

Rain drenches the patio stones.
All night was spent waiting
for an earthquake, and instead
...

When the bare feet of the baby beat across the grass
The little white feet nod like white flowers in the wind,
They poise and run like ripples lapping across the water;
And the sight of their white play among the grass
...

I wish, I could sit on top of a mountain
Where the majestic mountains just stand still,
Like Yogis seated in deep meditation, in absolute silence!
...

DANCING DROPS


I did not want it that,
...

Your innocent eyes
Soft rosy lips
Your pink skin
Even your baby- cries
...

Every night
The horizon lights up
Swirls of pink and orange
Fading to blue and purple
...

Pink’s pretty passion, Red’s re-revelries
Blue’s babbling brook, Green’s gracefully glee
Purple’s past presence, Orange's overseas
Yellow’s young yearning, your Love sets me free
...

6

Frequently the wood are pink—
Frequently are brown.
...

It’s holiday time on the hollyhock hills,
And I wish you would come with me laddie-love, now,
The butterfly-bells, from the Folly-fool rills,
Will ring if you listen, and drop on your brow.
...

Father!
You now sit
In your bedroom
Framed in a photo
...

It looked just like a cowboy song
Cows meandering along the fence
Sun dropped down and sent colors
Across the sky with a bit of suspense
...

Would you not be in Tryon
   Now that the spring is here,
When mocking-birds are praising
   The fresh, the blossomy year?
...

At the dawning of the day,
On the road to Gunnedah,
When the sky is pink and grey
As the wings of a wild galah,
...

The song of Rain

Since last night
...

THAT voice I hear,—how heard I cannot tell,—
Although my home is this, seems from my home:
...

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,
...