Red Poems

O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June;
O my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
...

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
...

When I get to be a composer
I'm gonna write me some music about
Daybreak in Alabama
And I'm gonna put the purtiest songs in it
...

As soon as Wolf began to feel
That he would like a decent meal,
He went and knocked on Grandma's door.
When Grandma opened it, she saw
...

The red rose whispers of passion,
And the white rose breathes of love;
O, the red rose is a falcon,
And the white rose is a dove.
...

Sometimes she walks through the village in her
little red dress
all absorbed in restraining herself,
and yet, despite herself, she seems to move
...

So much have I forgotten in ten years,
So much in ten brief years! I have forgot
What time the purple apples come to juice,
And what month brings the shy forget-me-not.
...

Every time I kiss you
After a long separation
I feel
I am putting a hurried love letter
...

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
...

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.
...

Thorn pierces blood from stem,
to make rose ever red.
Blossoms it to attract every eye,
and win all heart in the process.
...

Although you sit in a room that is gray,
Except for the silver
Of the straw-paper,
And pick
...

To those fixed on white,
White is white,
To those fixed on black,
It is the same,
...

There you were a sight to behold,
quietly sleeping, in shimmering folds.
No heart to disturb your precious rest,
I left you lying there in a faded red dress.
...

Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine,
There's always laughter and good red wine.
At least I've always found it so.
Benedicamus Domino!
...

It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,
Though my own red roses there may blow;
It is little I repair to the matches of the Southron folk,
Though the red roses crest the caps, I know.
...

Oh if I were the velvet rose
Upon the red rose vine,
I'd climb to touch his window
And make his casement fine.
...

When Susanna Jones wears red
her face is like an ancient cameo
Turned brown by the ages.
Come with a blast of trumphets, Jesus!
...

All, that I know
Of a certain star
Is, it can throw
...

(in response to the emotional soundness of Ma Lan's 'The Red Dress, ' which romps through her socio-emotional history in a vein of home-grown feminist dada; ...)
..................

The declivity of the stream bed snatches away the passing water... won't allow it to remain in an expanding moment with the purling sounds.
...

Red,
Red,
Signaling brutality,
Savoring morality,
...

When I was a teenager spirit grazing in the high grass, I was taught that I was less than anyone on earth not just because I was black.

Because I was always a praying spirit, it made the embodied jury around me angry, it made everyone want to retaliate out misunderstanding.
...

When I was a teenager spirit grazing in the high grass, I was taught that I was less than anyone on earth not just because I was black.

Because I was always a praying spirit, it made the embodied jury around me angry, it made everyone want to retaliate out misunderstanding.
...

(— in response to Terrence George Craddock's "Writing Prolific Cooked Red Herrings")
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
We will strike off with the next red herring, and so go gallivanting. We will follow the eccentric, acentric course of a floating vantage point, because the world's imagined perimeter won't settle into squareness. Yet maps are drawn by seeking vantage points with mental feet. What sends me gadding off might as well be a red herring, since I'm carrying a sloshing noggin full of dream ingredients, and the redness of the herring will not matter, as long as it gets me around the bend. The next red herring may not be red or a herring, and I may even borrow a silvery gray herring to reach a finer discourse of unexpectedness. Nobody needs herrings except to eat them or name a cloth pattern after them. Nobody needs to think of them beyond that, but it's good to know they're there, spawning in clouds of milky water, until they're not. There are so many things that need not be thought about, but it's good to know they're there, until they're not. All those things are swimming through the world like a school of herring that may suddenly matter, if only for a moment. And it is up to us to tell how this is so.
...

Anger and sadness can't explain why, the reason you left, just emptiness from the years you lied to me, thinking were best friends, only to be betrayed, not reminiscing anymore just thinking for once, the red rage makes me angry, the tears spent for you make the rain, seeing only memories of you playing in the red rain, they wanted you for themselves, no more time for me, I know they hate me, and apparently you do too they said, I accept it for now, no need to hate for if acceptance is life its the end, an effect it can have, wondering if you actually really cared, choosing everyone over me, even though I treated you like a princess, red rain, red rain, sweet and kind I thought, but not now, only sick and twisted, hating what you've become, saying you'd always be my friend, what about now, all I can see is red, only memories of you in the red rain
...

blood red rose spread heart bloomed in passions
each petal blood red dark caught eye in life pulse
each petal blood red dark caught eye in web intrigues
each petal blood red dark danced among sharp thorns
...

From red to red!
Red roses of love! ! !
Red valley and,
Red hill! ! !
...

Red as the cauldron burning
Red.
Red as the red Indians running
Red in my
...

Red,
Red and red,
Only red.
Red tape,
...