Poems about Red poems

I'm nervous on the sidewalk, pacing back and forthin my ruby red stilletos.(I hope I look beautiful.) I'm waiting under a full moon, in front of your apartment, eyes on my red-strapped watch.

Walking to Grandma’s house was such a choreFor nymphomaniac Little Red Riding WhoreThe woods were boring and devoid of decent menSo she had to stop to finger herself every now and againThere w

in the new washroomteaching grandchild to brush teethold toothless grannymom red with furythe mirror and the child's facered with her lipstickAuthor: john tiong chunghoo

Jingle verse enjoy. In reversed jestour game is hid - no orchestra in song, -no signature, as no fit, link, strung strongand taut traced are, for few see game addressed.The care of each theme's w

May …Our Brothers and Sisters Enjoy these giftsOf OUR labor, love and blood***********IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII***********IIIII IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Poets may praise a wattle thatchDoubtfully waterproof;Let me uplift my lowly latchBeneath a rose-tiled roof.Let it be gay and rich in hue,Soft bleached by burning days,Where skies ineffably are

MF: your initials hit mestriking hard - blindingRosesAreRed - that they arenot all roses are red andnot all things red are rosesMF roses are MF red....not if you're colour blindnot if you're s

What was the blackest sight to meOf all that campaign?A naked woman tied to a treeWith jagged holes where her breasts should be,Rotting there in the rain.On we pressed to the battle fray,Dogged

Ahhh...you're candy apple red. You're breakfast in bed. You're all the nice things that didn't ...go unsaid. You're my I am glad to be alive ...not dead! You're a blue sky turning red. Why...y

I want to be from thereI want to live there when the sun riseI want to spend my life thereIn the city of your imagineIn the city of your dreamingIn ManchesterNo wayIt was just a dreamBut it

When the king of Egypt, Let the Israelites go, God led them not straightBut a roundabout route thro'.There was a short-cut road; Yet, a circular way, God preferred, As in the event of any fight

Sitting on the curbWondering why she does this-it was herPale, skin graveHolding a razorbladeCrying of tears Mixed with blood Why was she still here? She told herself she mustRemembering hi