Email Poem

Your IP Address: 18.216.31.88
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem

"RED"


Listen he said, “How many ways can you see Red?”

“Well”, she sighed, “Let’s start with Cherry Pie, 
oozing it’s juices all over your chin
and plump moist Red Raspberries staining your sheets, then again
what about Claret or a bold Sauvignon swallowed straight from the bottle
drops fall like Mahogany Blood  
down your neck to your chest
stops at the waist just above
lipstick stains crushed cherries bad berries Cardinal sin
Talons for fingernails painted Dark Vermilion 
leave long thin lines on your skin Alizarin Crimson, 
as the heat rising up in you, your slick peaches and cream 
turns to flaming Amaranth blushes you scream out, "Again!"
in the background up loud pumping
speakers are throbbing “Vienna” - although
it’s a burning hot night in Berlin,
where out in the backyard 
rats run through Russet coloured piled leaves and loose rushes 
with the remains of a sticky Red Candy Apple,
a Kit-Kat wrapper, two over-ripe Pomegranates, and the blasted things 
rumble a half-empty Budweiser can 
that kind of slushes,
while your cat Chocolate Cosmos purrs and it hunches 
(it's been out all night again 2.30am, Tomming for Gins) 
he stops, looks around lowers his head, he's 
lurking in a dark corner chewing the remains of some grizzly vermin
and he fusses
beside a thick tree trunk 
that’s been viscerally cut 
it errupts with thick sugary Garnet Red sweet treacley stuff, 
syrup it's gut -
it’s milking away ,there’s no turning back 
it’s Ruby Red river slides down it’s thick stump 
right on track
to it’s base, then seeps through the ground,
where the roots hungrily swallow its nectar 
similar to the stuff that contains
Haemoglobin like your body requires,
iron-containing oxygen to transport metalloprotein 
in the Red Blood Cells 
this is all biological by design.
Somewhere in the distance, 
a new kind of sound 
the piercing alarm reverie from a truck come from town,
it’s Fire Engine Red and it's speeding on home 
with fat long hoses and cold water, 
to put out the Rossa Corsa flames 
in your bed. 
It's all in the timing,such bad luck". 
She says. 

She stops and catches her breath.
“ All that said”, she looks at him and rolls her eyes, 
“when I tell you my real stories, I’ll just have to do better.”

He concurred,
"All that is loud and clear. It has definitely been Read."


(Lovejoy-Burton/Dec 2017)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0g3_GkNDyd4
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required