Behind The Scenes: Empire
The little painted angels flit,
See, down the narrow staircase, where
The pink legs flicker over it!
Blonde, and bewigged, and winged with gold,
The shining creatures of the air
Troop sadly, shivering with cold.
The gusty gaslight shoots a thin
Sharp finger over cheeks and nose
Rouged to the colour of the rose.
All wigs and paint, they hurry in:
Then, bid their radiant moment be
The footlights' immortality!
poem by Arthur Symons
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Related quotes
My Pink Man
Pink is my colour,
wat wld i do without it, i wonder.
Pink is my mans colour,
which he aint shy to wear.
If u saw hm in hs pink shirt,
u wld definately kam to a halt, He is a total hunk.
I write lv letters to him in pink ink,
n watch his eyes blink
wen readin th letter in pink.
I love wearin pink blush,
coz wen he touches me my cheeks flush n i blush.
He gave me a pink rose
wen i wore my pink gloss
n kissd hs sweet lips
makin them turn as pink as my lip gloss.
Pink is th colour of hs door,
we'll slp on hs pink carpet on th floor
cz i wanna feel hs soft skin presd against mine 4 sure.
He is the one i live for,
he is th one to die for.
My pink man,
he's th reason y am nt a nun.
poem by Julie Njoki
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Red;
Red is the colour of anger welling up inside me,
Red is believing and then having doubt,
Red is the colour of love and romance,
Red is the colour of the end of my nose on a cold winter day.
The colour of little red riding hoods coat,
Red is mars high up in the sky;
The colour that flushes my cheeks after playing sport and getting embarressed.
The colour of my sore sad eyes after crying.
Red is the colour of my warm blood flooding my veins,
Which shows Human Bondage,
Which shows the life within me,
Red is the colour of ambition burning my soul,
Red is the colour of the devil, which feeds me my power.
poem by karlia Ashlyn
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Pink is my colour
Pink pants and rosy plants
Pink blouses, never failing to arouse spouses
Pink hot feverish lips
Passionate pants of pink
Love letters dipped in pink ink
You see! You see!
Pink is my colour
Pink is the sweet side of wild
Quite mild
Like a little lost baby child
Of all the colours compiled
Pink is romantic and disarming
All pink roses are ever so charming
Pink is my colour
The fruit juices I drink
Are always colour pink
With favourable odours
Igniting my fire making me desire more and more
Think! Think! Pink always links
With erotic pleasant stinks
Those flirty winks
Combining with pink
Creating an effect of kink, kink, kinky!
Pink is my colour
Refined or raw
Pink is my colour
And the colour of my door
Pink is my colour
And the only colour I adore
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Suicide Blonde
(a farriss & m hutchence)
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Suicide blonde
Was the colour of her hair
Like a cheap distraction
For a new affair
She knew it would finish
Before it began
Something tells me you lost the plan
Chorus
You want to make her
Suicide blonde
Love devastation
Suicide blonde
You want to make her
Suicide blonde
Love devastation
Suicide blonde
She stripped to the beat
But her clothes stay on
White light everywhere
But you cant see a thing
Such a squeeze
A mad sad moment
Glory to you
Glory to you
Take me there
Take me there
Got some revelation
Put into your hands
Save you from your misery
Like rain across the land
Dont you see
The colour of deception
Turning your world around again
Chorus
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love As A Landscape Painter
ON a rocky peak once sat I early,
Gazing on the mist with eyes unmoving;
Stretch'd out like a pall of greyish texture,
All things round, and all above it cover'd.
Suddenly a boy appear'd beside me,
Saying "Friend, what meanest thou by gazing
On the vacant pall with such composure?
Hast thou lost for evermore all pleasure
Both in painting cunningly, and forming?"
On the child I gazed, and thought in secret:
"Would the boy pretend to be a master?"
"Wouldst thou be for ever dull and idle,"
Said the boy, "no wisdom thou'lt attain to;
See, I'll straightway paint for thee a figure,--
How to paint a beauteous figure, show thee."
And he then extended his fore-finger,--
(Ruddy was it as a youthful rosebud)
Tow'rd the broad and far outstretching carpet,
And began to draw there with his finger.
First on high a radiant sun he painted,
Which upon mine eyes with splendour glisten'd,
And he made the clouds with golden border,
Through the clouds he let the sunbeams enter;
Painted then the soft and feathery summits
Of the fresh and quicken'd trees, behind them
One by one with freedom drew the mountains;
Underneath he left no lack of water,
But the river painted so like Nature,
That it seem'd to glitter in the sunbeams,
That it seem'd against its banks to murmur.
Ah, there blossom'd flowers beside the river,
And bright colours gleam'd upon the meadow,
Gold, and green, and purple, and enamell'd,
All like carbuncles and emeralds seeming!
Bright and clear he added then the heavens,
And the blue-tinged mountains far and farther,
So that I, as though newborn, enraptured
Gazed on, now the painter, now the picture.
Then spake he: "Although I have convinced thee
That this art I understand full surely,
Yet the hardest still is left to show thee."
Thereupon he traced, with pointed finger,
And with anxious care, upon the forest,
At the utmost verge, where the strong sunbeams
From the shining ground appear'd reflected,
Traced the figure of a lovely maiden,
Fair in form, and clad in graceful fashion,
Fresh the cheeks beneath her brown locks' ambush,
And the cheeks possess'd the selfsame colour
As the finger that had served to paint them.
"Oh thou boy!" exclaim'd I then, "what master
In his school received thee as his pupil,
Teaching thee so truthfully and quickly
Wisely to begin, and well to finish?"
Whilst I still was speaking, lo, a zephyr
Softly rose, and set the tree-tops moving,
Curling all the wavelets on the river,
And the perfect maiden's veil, too, fill'd it,
And to make my wonderment still greater,
Soon the maiden set her foot in motion.
On she came, approaching tow'rd the station
Where still sat I with my arch instructor.
As now all, yes, all thus moved together,--
Flowers, river, trees, the veil,--all moving,--
And the gentle foot of that most fair one,
Can ye think that on my rock I linger'd,
Like a rock, as though fast-chain'd and silent?
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Barbie Doll
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.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You have a great big nose and fat legs.
She was healthy, tested intelligent,
possessed strong arms and back,
abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity.
She went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.
She was advised to play coy,
exhorted to come on hearty,
exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out
like a fan belt.
So she cut off her nose and her legs
and offered them up.
In the casket displayed on satin she lay
with the undertaker's cosmetics painted on,
a turned-up putty nose,
dressed in a pink and white nightie.
Doesn't she look pretty? everyone said.
Consummation at last.
To every woman a happy ending.
poem by Marge Piercy
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That Girl
Over there, across the street there's that Girl All smiling at me
She's tall and thin
Piqued elegant chin Cool oblong contours that entices me
Holds regal eyes of emerald seas Long lashes flicker Promiscuous glances
Breathings on impulse and stuck in traffic I'm now a slave to her strange magic
I look both ways to halt my movement but loves gravity has my entrapment
30 feet to 20 her legs are wiry Smooth athletic feminine mechanic
20 feet to 10 cheeks are powdered Sweet navy blue An urban serpent
Now 10 is 5 she's one foot high Rouged by smoothness Of party girl tennis Then her lips Begin to part An introduction To my conundrum
That girls a boy
and she likes me
poem by Kevin Patrick
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Sunlight on white paint. For the New Year.
The house across the way is newly painted white.
Right now, that’s all my being seems to need:
this winter morning, sharp, cold, bright and clear,
the morning sunlight pours across white paint;
contains a thousand messages, in me
interpreted.. or simply left to be..
this moment, that’s as much as being craves:
this morning’s glory; and I, born for praise..
even as I write, I watch the sun’s
white paint brush move across the house’s front
and tell the eye of reason that this world
is turning, basking, in this morning sun;
already sparkling on the Bondi waves
as if the world had just been washed anew;
cast early dawn’s pearl light on Taj Mahal
as if the sun itself could never tire of beauty;
Italian villa forecourts just hosed down,
the air all fresh to meet the warming day;
the gardens of Carmel, eight hours from now,
will paint their flowers fresh with mist and dew;
as every carefree holiday yourself
recall, as proof eternal of pure soul..
and here - the witness of my silent mind
needs nothing, need go nowhere else to find
its very self, this moment without taint:
immortal sunlight shining on white paint.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Alankar(Decor) -36
Making Of A Rose(Triolet)
Just making of a rose a Rose
Cuts and folds plastic or paper
Then paints with all pink rouged a Rose
Just making of a rose a Rose
Blooms, scents, charms rosy Rose her rose
Thorns and scissors-they don't differ
Just making of a rose a Rose
Cuts and folds plastic or paper
poem by Indira Renganathan
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The painted rose
The painted rose
~
A rose in fullest bloom
Is it of the reddest colour
The warmest hue upon its petals
As beautiful as the poet wrote
Embedded beneath a clear sky
An ocean of blue climbing above
Where birds swim upon high
Flight of fancy, flight of freedom
What a joy it must be
Painted from the pallet
Of natures ink and colour
A roses thorn stands striking
In the sharpness of the brush
Captured to the light
A rose in full bloom
Is of the reddest of colour
And the most beautiful
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Pretty Pink Rose
Shes just been to russia and theyre dying their faces
Theyre dying over there
A pretty pink rose
That rnr lady takes a space-ship ride shes out of this world
A pretty pink rose
And were living for you my love, were living for you
And were dying for you my love
Pretty pink rose
She tore down paris on the tall of thom paine
But the left wings broken the right insane
A pretty pink rose
Have a nice day, its a killer, turn a cheek
Its a christian code
A pretty pink rose
And were living for you my love, were living for you
And were dying for you my love
Pretty pink rose
Shes the poor mans gold shes the anarchist crucible
Flying in the face of the despot cannible
Shes a pretty pink rose
Never let it rain, never let it rain on the heart of the pretty pink rose
Pretty pink rose
And were living for you my love, were living for you
And were dying for you my love, pretty pink rose
Get me thru the pain, thru the pain of the thorn on the pretty pink rose
Never let it rain, never rain never rain, the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart, of the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart, of the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart,, of the pretty pink rose
Take me to the heart, to the heart, to the heart
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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{painted Pink Sky}
My eyes set their gaze across the horizon
The sun is setting in late fall afternoon
Cold snap in the air as the leaves swirl about
A welcoming view is the painted pink sky
Streaks of pale blue dotted with white
Have been suddenly brushed with a soft pastel
The beauty is breathtaking, such natural artistry
I am in awe of the painted pink sky
I think of you now, how magnificent it would be
To find ultimate and much needed serenity
Wrapped up in your strong arms in loves sweet embrace
To be held by you under the painted pink sky
poem by Lillian Jamison
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Nose
No one cares for the nose
To go nose straight is the tao
If there were no eyes
You could see better with your nose
If there were no nose
you wouldnot distinguish the sweet from the bitter
And there would be no value judgements in the world
And it is the nose that keeps you hot in the cold
And that keeps you cold in Jakodabad
The nose is the vigilant customs officer
That does not allow any drug to your lungs
And the nose cannot be bribed
Oh Nose! the customs officer of the body
And the pivot of value judgement in the world
If that name thou love
Remain with us and teach the noseless world
That it must have a nose in this wartorn world
He who knows the greatness of nose
Surely goes to the realm of rose
In the life to come
Hurrah Let us compose hymns to nose
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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Today... 'The Chiefest Among Ten Thousand
So radiant is my Lover to me.
The Chiefest among ten thousand is He.
With a head like pure gold and raven black hair
to Him no one else can ever compare.
His eyes are set like jewels so clear and so pure
and His lips like lilies dripping with myrrh.
His mouth of sweetness speaks of paradise
and His cheeks are perfumed with beds of spice.
His body is like smooth polished ivory
embroidered with sapphires shining in glory.
His loving arms outstretched the world to hold
and His legs like marble set in feet of gold.
This is my Lover and this is my Friend
the One in whom I can always depend.
No one on earth is as worthy as He
the Fairest of All is my Lord to me.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
The Flat Horizon
(wang chung)
I wanna paint your portrait in bright color
I wanna paint the lines in red and blue
I wanna make your eyes appear like starlings
Saying, darling, I love you!
I wanna set your face upon a landscape
I wanna show the love and toil and sweat
I wanna show your beauty like a crystal
In an all-night launderette
Chorus:
Oh this line is the flat horizon
And you are the shape on the left
Oh this line is the flat horizon
And this is the sun in the sky
Oh this line is the flat horizon
And makes the great divide
Between heaven and angels
And earth and men
I wanna show what lies beneath the surface
In little squares of purple, green and gold
So everyone can see their own reflection
In the mirror of your soul
I wanna paint your arrogance and beauty
I wanna paint the way you laugh at me
I wanna paint the world in which I see you
Fixed for all eternity
Repeat chorus
I wanna paint your portrait in bright color
I wanna paint your personality
I wanna show the world just how I see you
I wanna show the world just how I see you
You know that only I can guarantee you
Precious immortality
Precious immortality
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Wang Chung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Am I a master
I am the master, master of art
have painted true pictures,
of rising sun, mountain, sea
through jungles flowing rivers,
shining stars, birds, cloudy sky,
can paint anything and everything.
insects, lions, bear and deer.
just like the living things.
I am the master, master of art,
can make my own paint and brush
Alas! but cannot create raw material
of any of paint, brush or canvas.
Oh! can not paint these seven
which are made only in heaven:
smell, touch, look, hear and taste,
emotions, thought and breathe.
No, I am not the master, master of art
can paint uncountable things yet not.
Not possible to paint love and laugh
I have to go again and again to learn
to the supreme master, who painted
the universe, stars, moon and sun
(C) S. D. Tiwari
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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The Pink Room
When you get to the pink room
do not forget to leave her
a rose.
I want her to know
we have remembered the pink room,
I want her to remember me.
I dreamt of the pink room last
night, of a time when it kept me safe,
a time when it kept her safe.
The pink room is hidden from view
now, has been stripped bare of the
lilac, the silver - someone
I will never know has carelessly
splashed blue paint over my memories.
If you should go to the pink room,
you know you will see me there.
I never could leave the pink room -
remember to leave me a rose.
poem by Morney Wilson
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Creatures Of Love
A woman made a man
A man he made a house
And when they lay together
Little creatures all come out
Well, Ive seen sex and I think its alright
It makes those little creatures come to life
I can laugh or I can turn away
Well, Ive seen sex and I think its okay
We are creatures, creatures of love
We are creatures, creatures of love
From the sleep of reason, a life is born
We are creatures, creatures of love
Its okay to be afraid
When the blue sparks hit your brain
We can love one another
Ive been told that its okay
Doctor, doctor, tell me what I am
Am I one of those human beings
Well I can laugh or I can learn to think
So help me now to find out what I feel
We are creatures, creatures of love
We are creatures, creatures of love
Weve been here forever, before you were born
We are creatures of love, we are creatures of love
A man can drive his car
And a woman can be a boss
Im a monkey and a flower
Im everything at once
Well, a woman and a man can be together
If they decide to theyll make little creatures
Watch em now!
Little creature of love
With two arms and two legs
From a moment of passion
Now they cover the bed
We are creatures of love, we are creatures of love
We are creatures, creatures of love
We are creatures, creatures of love
From the sleep of reason, a life is born
We are creatures of love, we are creatures of love
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Featherless wings
last night i dream that i was walking in the clouds, huge
heavenly petals like pebbles wash away my tears, a moist
of silver blue drifted my pink cheek; cool, smooth and soft
as i feel it, clear as the ocean wave and beautiful as rainbow
when the sun scatter its radiant ray where i seat in the
cumulus formation of clouds beneath my feet
in a glance, speed like light passing through my eye, blinking
without control while my nose seems white as a snow failed
to breathe the air, choking with my eye staring above my head,
thinking that this might be the end, as the naked eye said adieu
death comes like a thief of the night, then i have to go, but in a
sudden moment i notice that iam not alone in the wilderness of
beautiful clouds, their are humanoid form of being floating
waving, cheering, singing sweet melody of song, and calling
many name, whispering me not to be lonely; it’s the clouds that
made us to hope, it’s the song that give us the feather to fly and
it’s the dream that leads us go, to a place, we almost have to
know
waiting for a day of night and day, seems no end, not a single
feather grown in my body cause me pain, bother and confuse
leads my way to pray, that in my featherless wings i can reach
the sky; fly my featherless wings fly up, up to the heaven above,
guide my dream in your own destiny, a place where my soul will
be happy, stay with me winged angels, featherless wings has to
fly high with you in the heaven above
oh! dream show me the way my featherless wings have something
to say, please listen my winged angels and hear my
featherless voice.......
“angels wings is made not of feather, it’s a deep faith of their
loyalty to God, tangible and form like wings”
poem by Antonio Liao
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Back And Forth
both are mine they both/know
that but it is salted palms
and that very small mask that hides it's nose
and thorns cause it to bleed my 'roses'—only 'lily' knew—no frowns he/him expanded her\you wash it off 'oh Sylvia' we are rich
with your pink of fingers painted color rainbows arc the sky'
as a finger moves it back and forth see the sea as it waves
a beautiful woman made of foam or of;
which hand is the nymph to splash her water- where he swims
pushing her heart up closer to mine
and both are fine pink salted pearls you wear around there.
poem by Is It Poetry
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