#redlips - Hello Poetry

Dying of fires The days / reflections on surfaces of oceans... Burnt Umbers, blue & blood, Mixish Muted, drowned. The sinking sun wounded. Down For death sees red before dark fall / Ruin... It is the sensation of ripples when supple lips, pink linguist leaves poetic syllabic pining —live wires touching Nape, the meek taste of tongue, shyly lifting countries to new conquered kingdoms of skin— gooseflesh and earthquakes blood as lava rushes in kabuki cheeks secret joy begins. Red so parched Those sudden seas of thirst parts / As our senses / must breathe... (like art) Magic whispers kiss because touch impassioned is red and wish. Lovelorn letters poetic bliss Spontaneous wings born In each ache and void Loud trumpeting of words when distance fails the hearts which beat Feel speak red the oceans felt the tides that ebb hurried pleas desperations red when letters lose the dying magnitude, the importance & impetus that love must free... Great clarion songs of hearts are red as are all kisses (scarlet) even to air and dead begins on such lips Red.

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Feb 18, 2021

Feb 18, 2021 at 3:07 PM UTC

butch-decatoria

The Color Red

Dying of fires The days / reflections on surfaces of oceans... Burnt Umbers, blue & blood, Mixish Muted, drowned. The sinking sun wounded. Down For death sees red before dark fall / Ruin... It is the sensation of ripples when supple lips, pink linguist leaves poetic syllabic pining —live wires touching Nape, the meek taste of tongue, shyly lifting countries to new conquered kingdoms of skin— gooseflesh and earthquakes blood as lava rushes in kabuki cheeks secret joy begins. Red so parched Those sudden seas of thirst parts / As our senses / must breathe... (like art) Magic whispers kiss because touch impassioned is red and wish. Lovelorn letters poetic bliss Spontaneous wings born In each ache and void Loud trumpeting of words when distance fails the hearts which beat Feel speak red the oceans felt the tides that ebb hurried pleas desperations red when letters lose the dying magnitude, the importance & impetus that love must free... Great clarion songs of hearts are red as are all kisses (scarlet) even to air and dead begins on such lips Red.

59

Red lips White paint hides death her grace a butterflies wing life caught in her cold stare of her sting. All dressed in colours which catch the moons glare she kisses you like death kisses away the life that fades from sleep an angel with a bushido blade cuts away the bamboo which grows with haste the light fades into a full moon A butterfly hiding in a tomb with carnivorous teeth hiding a song of red bloodied despair her cold touch ice on skin catches your heart within sin The black tea ceremony of vampiric death or matrimony if she chooses you for her thrall.

0

Dec 2, 2017

Dec 2, 2017 at 12:41 PM UTC

alienpoet

Geisha vampire

Red lips White paint hides death her grace a butterflies wing life caught in her cold stare of her sting. All dressed in colours which catch the moons glare she kisses you like death kisses away the life that fades from sleep an angel with a bushido blade cuts away the bamboo which grows with haste the light fades into a full moon A butterfly hiding in a tomb with carnivorous teeth hiding a song of red bloodied despair her cold touch ice on skin catches your heart within sin The black tea ceremony of vampiric death or matrimony if she chooses you for her thrall.

18

her lips were as red as the blood dripping from a fresh wound. they were as dark as anger and as passionate as love. they ignited fires, if only under his skin. they glistened in the light, as she swept her tongue across. they were all he wanted, all he aspired for. he watched her painted lips form the soft p's and round o's of their everyday language. he watched her lips pull back with sheer happiness and he found himself grinning along with her. she took something so common, like pouting with distaste, and made it so astonishingly glorious.

0

Jun 14, 2014

Jun 14, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC

chemically

red lips

her lips were as red as the blood dripping from a fresh wound. they were as dark as anger and as passionate as love. they ignited fires, if only under his skin. they glistened in the light, as she swept her tongue across. they were all he wanted, all he aspired for. he watched her painted lips form the soft p's and round o's of their everyday language. he watched her lips pull back with sheer happiness and he found himself grinning along with her. she took something so common, like pouting with distaste, and made it so astonishingly glorious.

11