A Rose Color-Red Poem by THEO RAY

A Rose Color-Red

Rating: 5.0


The chains, the early grave, the holy light of day.
Once sacred, once fed.....the sins of the father,
the lie sung by the troubadour's cry, the peasant
in the field-in strife with season's toil to abide,
the scorching sun is wide. The scorching sun's
alive, a rose color-red blooms the sky, there
goes the sun in slumber and rise the moon in
silent wonder. The trees rattle by the wind-
the ancient cathedral-candles lit within, where
ancient proverbs hung, the hour of sin to be
strung.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ron Flowers 02 February 2010

A very nice poem. Ron

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Wesley Mincin 29 July 2009

A piece of perfection. An ideal poem to represent the true art of poetry. Superb, Theo. -Wes

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Colin Jeffery 01 November 2008

A very good poem indeed.

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