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(15 September 1889 – 22 May 1948 / Clarendon)

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A Red Flower

Your lips are like a southern lily red,
Wet with the soft rain-kisses of the night,
In which the brown bee buries deep its head,
When still the dawn's a silver sea of light.

Your lips betray the secret of your soul,
The dark delicious essence that is you,
A mystery of life, the flaming goal
I seek through mazy pathways strange and new.

Your lips are the red symbol of a dream,
What visions of warm lilies they impart,
That line the green bank of a fair blue stream,
With butterflies and bees close to each heart!

Brown bees that murmur sounds of music rare,
That softly fall upon the langourous breeze,
Wafting them gently on the quiet air
Among untended avenues of trees.

O were I hovering, a bee, to probe
Deep down within your scented heart, fair flower,
Enfolded by your soft vermilion robe,
Amorous of sweets, for but one perfect hour!

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003


Read poems about / on: red, flower, silver, music, rain, green, dream, sea, dark, light, heart, night, life, butterfly, kiss, tree

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Comments about this poem (Dawn in New York by Claude McKay )

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  • Omar H (12/7/2007 8:45:00 AM)

    ths poem is sop sexual i love it, and am jamaican so i realy enjoy reading mackay poetry bcause i kno what he is about

    14 person liked.
    11 person did not like.
  • john tiong chunghoo (5/12/2006 9:17:00 AM)

    so imaginative. i love this.

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