Posts Tagged ‘red’

Kiss Me and See

Posted: September 16, 2015 in Love Poems
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I am the ember

to your flower;

but I can’t stay red,

and you won’t remain evergreen.

Let’s use each other up

while time allows

our beauty to be seen.

That Jazz

Posted: April 2, 2014 in Poetry
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Can you hear the trumpets blare?

Almost a call, a plead

to get up and dance.

Notes from the piano

simmer and the air teems

with heat and electricity.

The mellow tones sculpt an escape

for the inner beast,

and dye the room lusty red.

The drumbeats build up,

up, up, toward that

explosive thrill and slam

of every instrument letting loose-

at the climax.

O stuck Heart of mine,

you pine for the past-

can you not let go

of what was not meant to last?

 

There is no excuse, now,

not to pump Red to my cheeks-

I have grown cold, with you

behaving thus for weeks.

Wheat Fields Under Cloudy Skies

painting by Vincent van Gogh

Sky with its blue scales
does not daunt
pastoral fields- great pools
of emeralds, celadon-
the flowers at their fringes-
white stars, blood spots-
arcing under the wind.

The land is made of curves.
Clouds wheel in and out
of their own whiteness.
The wind is blurring
the world’s colors.
They are all within one another.

Where once was sighing-

the great cave opening

to a three-quarter moon;

white stalactites and stalagmites

shaped like gravestones;

a pink worm

pressed to the cave floor,

hiding its red underbelly;

air escaping in a hollow hiss-

now

the dark round emptiness of

it remains, and

the cave walls are close

but not touching,

and there is

no movement.

My white heart is gaining stains

and beginning to stink like garbage.

 

If you would have taken it,

it would have bloomed like a rose,

 

it wouldn’t become unsightly.

But, my dear, you’re not a good liar.

 

Truths bleed through the phone,

and I piece them together.

 

A half-truth is, after all,

a whole, stinking lie.

 

I’m wearing black now.

You’re wearing red

 

and consorting with a Union Jack.

You’re alive.

 

Where am I?

Not in your eyes. Not on your mind.

Look at the toy on display.

Printed on its hand is a small button

that says “try me”.

“Try me”, isn’t that

a lovely phrase?

Many have tried this toy out-

have pressed the button

and seen it jolt to life like a heart,

whirring and singing,

its cheeks glowing red.

Go ahead! Try it!

Try it! as so many have before.

They love it, but buy the ones

on shelves, the ones in boxes.

So many have tried this toy,

drained its battery song

by song.

The crimson in its cheeks

is dimming, its life

is fading.

Its electric energy is being used up.

Soon it will be thrown away,

singing and glowing no more,

dead.