Noisy Geese
As the pink dawn rose
Over the mud flats
A serenity unmached
The glassy surface
Becoming a mirrior
For the rising hills
Its solitary wavering
From the noisy conversation
Broken down silence
By the 'Geese'
Waking from the
Roosting night
Ruffled feathers
Setting flight.
poem by Howard Johnson
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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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(V – 2010) The Serenity of Solitude
At times lonely
When we go for a solitary walk
Down the silent valley of solitude:
As we whisper a casual word
It echoes back to us with a renewed energy!
That’s the serenity of solitude.
As we throw a casual glance
It captures for us a hitherto unseen beauty!
That’s the serenity of solitude.
As we touch a casual thought
It blooms before us as profound poetry!
That’s the serenity of solitude.
At times busy
Something entices us to take a solitary walk –
That’s the serenity of solitude!
The Blood Red Rose
A solitary rose,
it could not understand
why it was deprived of life
by the cultivator's hand.
A solitary rose,
clutched in a mourner's fingers
waits the presenting of the flag
as the last note of "Taps" still lingers
A solitary Rose,
it could not understand
why its life was at the mercy
of the passing of this man.
A solitary Rose
wise beyond its time
is accepting of its fate
as the mourners stand in line
A solitary rose
flung upon a box of wood.
feels the sun a final time
as it is covered up for good.
Our ancestors made sacrifice
to expiate their sin.
The blood red rose, symbolic
of what flows beneath our skin.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Solace And Serenity
swimming around
two fish in a barrel
no one there to pull me out
they leave me to die
how could they know
whoever could know me
tied to your tales of woe
my tale to your stone
two angels hanging out upon the ceiling
watching all the stories we must tell
of solace and serenity
solace and serenity
a silence so sad
the water drains out
the oxygen is killing me
and all things i ever loved
lost a drop at a time
the lazy days drown
drift into a perfect sleep
baking in that mean old sun
i wish i could dance
to solace and serenity
solace and serenity
a silence so sad
solace and serenity
i just wanna dance
this might make you laugh
i don't mean to amuse you
but i just have a simple view
of where it went wrong
solace and serenity
solace and serenity
i just wanna dance
song performed by by Zwan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pink Flowers.
Do not text me or think otherwise
I am just picking flowers from my garden.
Last evening I picked a red rose but
Wow! It proved to be too red for my date
Today I visited the same garden
The only flower I found was a white rose.
Where is my favourite pink rose?
This morning I cycled to the market
Sure, to buy my date a pink rose
But the only roses there were yellow and purple.
Tried to enquire where I could get one
But no one knows where to find.
Went to my flower vendor but nowhere to find
Where will I get my pink rose for my date?
Tomorrow, I'll travel far and wide
Only to get this precious pink flower
And if I succeed, my date will be happy
And my heart will find a solace rest
Amidst the residue of love petals
Just with the pink flower petals.
Where will I get my Pink rose flower?
(Dedicated for my pink flower date)
poem by Aron Lelei
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All's Not Quiet On The Western Front
All's not quiet on the western front.
The noise is raucous now.
It assaults the serenity of our ears
and I often wonder how
in my short life span
how it could get like this?
Did we in the west forget the silence?
The silence is what I miss.
Deluged by sounds not pleasing
I try my best not to hear.
But so much of it is deafening.
It gets louder to me each year.
Gone are the days of peaceful melodies.
They've been highjacked by the rap.
And the booming boxes that house them
sound out like a thunderclap.
This generation on the western front
doesn't remember what is through.
For if they did they would welcome it
like grass welcomes soft morning dew.
The pace they live has taken them to
a noisy frenetic place.
No. all's not quiet on the western front.
Serenity has lost its face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Pink Pink
pink pink
Confirmed that it was armed
pink pink
Was right to be alarmed
pink pink
Ensured that nought was harmed
pnk pink
Steady hand and mind
pink pink
Micro-chip designed
pink pink
The password was declined
pink pink
Another course to take
pink pink
Caution not to shake
pink pink
Captivity a mistake
pink pink
Beads upon the brow
pink pink
Experience the how
pink pink
No chance to turn back now
pink pink
Be certain not to slip
pink pink
One last wire to snip
pink pink
Two hearts that skip a beat
penk penk
The sound that gives a lift
penk penk
Time to collect the gift
penk penk
The robbery will be swift
poem by Chris Dawson
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Pink confused a white rose red
Pink confused a red rose white
Dipping sun sets day to night.
Guileless dawn joins light with dark;
Hateless, awe-filled, works of art.
Nature paints each their skin;
Not a choice, nought to win.
No thorn pricked, no blood bled,
pink infused a white rose red.
poem by Sailing to windward
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A Pink Rose
A Pink rose is for the one,
Where love has blossomed and bloomed,
Where passion and purity,
With love and peace,
Combines and grows,
That brings forth the Pink rose,
Of the Red rose,
And of the White rose,
When both entwine,
Comes the Pink rose,
For all the blushing brides,
When the proposal is asked,
With the Pink rose as a sign,
Is one asking another,
In love and loves first
Red and White,
That all will show,
And carry a wedding bonquet,
Are all the Blushing brides to be,
For the Pink rose if for the one,
Where love has blossomed and bloomed,
Representing passion and purity,
That has love and peace,
Combining and growing,
From two different in color,
One extreme to another,
From the Red and the White,
That combine,
And show true love,
A Pink rose evolves,
Showing true love,
It shows in it's splendor of Pink,
For the blushing bride to be,
So to say,
'I do',
When the question is popped,
On this Valentines Day,
Valentine's Day,
A day of proposal's,
Where it is asked,
From one to another,
'Will you be mine',
From this Valentine's Day,
On to,
The next,
And,
The next,
And,
There after.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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Silence of Rumi
I read Rumi several times
And every time I went through
the same sincere silence
That unites the human with the divine
Silence of Rumi as though
Is the silence Sublime—
The heart of all sounds!
I dove deep down that silence,
A child’s wonder of sort
Why do I start my poems with words?
When they end only with silence!
His silence is deep
Deep as the existence at the bottom of the ocean
Deep as the calmness of a wise man
And yet he is in conversation
With the silence
And through it, time and again
His silence is the silence of a flute
Empty, easy and melodious
It turns separation into liberation
Oh what a joy—Rumi’s silence!
His silence is an invitation
To join the journey of the soul
A sweet beacon to lose yourself
In the Self of existence
And yet it is conversational
You can toy with it safely
Who can turn his back
Having heard Rumi’s silence
In its sincerity
In its entirety
Who can escape from Rumi’s silence
Having been there for a moment
Who can not hear his silence
Having heard it with the thumps of his heart
Oh love! Go and meet this evening
Silence of Rumi in its serenity
Of heavens
This must be the highest
Of souls
This is the highest!
poem by Bhaswat Chakraborty
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A man with a pink umbrella
Pink day
Pink hedge
Pink porch
Pink balcony
Pink woman
Pink ghost on a pink road!
Pink door
Pink hello
Pink dream
Pink sparrow
Pink night
poem by Framarz Bagheri
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The Lesson About Our Love
I've found love
In his bright eyes
they've found morals
In our glassy bond
So we've found despair
In our broken hearts
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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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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Pink
A blush of pink:
She'd caught a roving eye -
He gave a wink.
Her smile had played a shy
And quaint florescence;
The siren of pubescence
Drew him in.
She bade him touch her hair,
Suggesting that he dare
To kiss her pulsing lips!
E'er the fool a man, he did:
The drips of blood began to cheer -
And so, another rid:
Tips of fangs are sharp, you know -
Dancing ivory feeds her soul -
See her claim a howl upon a chilling wind!
Slain, he lay across a crimson floor:
She grinned in her repletion.
A blush of pink;
Beneath a glowering sky
Her savoured drink
Was done.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
pink pink pink pink pink pink her blush
pink pink pink pink pink pink her blush
pink pink pink pink pink pink her blush
pink pink pink pink pink pink
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Pink
Pink handkerchief
'Pink' username
Pink bag
Pink eyeglasses
Pink earrings
A girl in all-pink walking
A girl in all-pink talking
A girl in all-pink eating
A girl in all-pink hurting
A girl in all-pink crying
But a girl in all-pink, dazzling
A boy in a pink t-shirt, bedazzled
by a girl in all-pink
A girl with a Pink Soul.
poem by Mary Jesusa Villegas
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At Dawn
At dawn…
The time when I feel all alone
When everybody is asleep
And are still catching some zzzz’s
At dawn…
The hour when the place is quiet
When I’m almost dumb and deaf
And silence is all I can hear
At dawn…
The break when my mind’s unloaded
When my body is free from pains
And my heart is filled with wonder
At dawn…
Each day with a date with God
I spend this quiet time in grace
Thanking Him for the night that passed
At dawn…
I pray to our Almighty Lord above
Praising Him for who He is-
An awesome and wonderful God
At dawn…
I plead for His help so I could do
All the tasks that I have to make
At dawn, and for the rest of the day
poem by Rose de Ramar
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401
this summer she wears her pink kimono
and she will walk under the pink blossoms of the pink sakura
she will carry a pink umbrella
and she will cross the pink bridge of kokoma
pink leaves on her feet
pink fingernails on her pink wooden shoes
in honor of her love
that never bloomed to complete red
she will sit on a pink bench
praying for pink clouds to drift
on the pink skies.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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at dawn a river
closed in colours of the pink
with pale pink dawn, now
haiku by Maria Barbara Korynt
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Silence Is...
Silence is an absence
Silence is profound
Silence is a conversation
Being had without sound
Silence is an expression
One that cannot be heard
Silence cannot be spoken
Although it is a word
Silence is a presence
Of great nothingness
Silence can be something
And yet cease to exist
Silence can fill a room
And have no mass at all
Silence cannot be dropped, yet it can fall
Silence is a mystery
That will forever go unsolved
Silence is how every sound can swiftly be dissolved
Silence is the sound of rest
The only sound that can sound best
While other sounds can cause great pain
Silence is not the sound to blame
For Silence is what silence is
Something that is nothing
Nothing that exists
poem by Kyle.J Carruthers
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