Red Poem by Elizabeth Robinson
Red
Rating: ★3.5
"Fate's material secrecy"
is merely a phrase
from which you made a rhyme.
Sanguine, was it,
the cunning with which
you quashed time.
Then "red" is the color
ground from ore, iron
thrown dusty through the sun's rays.
Dispersal, was it,
red blush on air
makes fatality sublime.
Friday, August 26, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: fate,red,rhyme
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8/28/2026 7:00:24 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
