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Poems On / About RED  10/31/2014 10:10:57 PM
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Best Poems About / On RED
 
 
 
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  369.     

Red Lace

I espied a red glint
In between the cracks
On the wooden panels
Of a locked up closet

How many sphinxes
Stood guard with riddles.
Halting curious eyes?
No sentinel more vigilant

I caught glimpse of a
Red lace stuck
Between mahogany doors,
Some past vanity imagined

Standing there unmoving,
Drawn by intrigue, I was
Like a cat sniffing on
A netted pantry window

I stood beside the
Grim and ominous bureau
A piece of red lace
Clutched by wooden vise

Perplexed and unsettled
Mind wandering
The past insinuates
Rekindling flames
From cold embers

The band played on
Red lace swirling
In the garish glow
Of a festive December night

It was not I who held
Those delicate hands
As you pirouetted and
Caused an eddy in the crowd

Plain red lace seen
Awkward in between doors
What images it evoked
My tired eyes hardly make out
An unwanted remembrance

The memory now a saturated scene
My eyes no longer entertain
Sordid images resurrected
A glimpse of other’s paradise

I lost you once, oh what pain
Losing you again in recall
From a red lace
Stuck between closet doors
 
Eddie Roa

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  370.     

Red With Native Blood

Give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
We have soiled it so, with our hands,
red with native blood.
The earth was stained, when we first came,
red with native blood.
We stole their domain, with a barbaric claim:
that we were civilised and they were not,
that they were the savages and we were not,
when we ravaged the land that began to clot,
red with native blood.

Not content with genocide
we interned them in reserves.
To break their culture
and tribal ways;
in stealing children
the state was brave,
to turn their women
into household slaves,
and hope their men would die,
unmourned, in lonely graves;
a problem to us no more.

Give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
Acknowledge their just demands,
wash the stains from our hands,
give them back their bloody land,
red with native blood.
 
David SmithWhite

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  371.     

The color of my life

I remember…
Her pouty red lips, when she wouldn’t get her way
The blush in her cheeks when her hand grazed mine
The freshly picked hibiscus that clung in her hair
And the mosquito bite that she wouldn’t stop scratching

The red and white striped hat
Atop the cat of the book we used to read
The little red shoes she wore for Halloween
And the six little flames flickering on her birthday cake

The color of my young fingertips
When she squeezed my hand in hers
As the spots of blood leaked from her fallen knee
Flushing her tear stricken cheeks red

The color of the first Valentine card I gave to her
And the color of the last rose, I almost gave to her

The color of the burning sky
As we both silently waited for our parents to come
The bright red brake lights of her parent’s car
Leaving the school and me behind

The color of the balloon that slipped out of her hand
And floated out into the eternal blue sky
I remember… the red in my life
 
Jeffrey Lee

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Poems On / About RED