Best Red Poems


Premium Member The Red Leaf

the raspy whisper

finally
 
gets my full attention -
wistfully I smile
..for its persistence reminds me of you..

the crisp red leaf 
scuttles scrapingly
across the gray pavement
to and fro 
like a dancing crab
moving with the whims of the winds
chasing me 
as it seemed like I had once chased my dreams;
blown in directions left up to chance 
..until I met you..

..is it now, as it was then 
Destiny?
for in this instant, my sense of direction
seems predestined.. 

a smoky scent 
spices the chilled blue air
reminding me of our cozy nights 
curled with the fire 

..entranced
as we were
with our warmth 
and our flame..

could it be
love signals from the hearth
calling me home..?

..my soul
feels akin to the red leaf,
the wafting smoke
and I am ready to follow..

Would the cold atmosphere be so cruel 
as to play capricious tricks upon my eyes... or

..is that really
YOU
standing there..?

Oh! 
my beloved,
how my broken spirit 
has suffered
in my pining desire to be with you -

I run to you!
years of yearning prayers answered
fingertips straining - stretching further 
reaching out to touch you,
the whole of my being aching 
to hold you and enfold you

..ah, I feel your heat
so very close to me..

Alas!
I fall to my knees,
my arms empty 
but for the loss I carry..
your warm breath 
on the nape of my neck 
only my hot want 
brewed with a cool wisp of the breeze 
  
..Oh, God! Please!
just let it be
let me go..!

my forsaken flame less than a dying ember;
I but ashes in my grief
withered
in my autumn season
without you
still...

I’m slow to realize...
that your fading glow just the sun slanting low 
blurring wicked whimsy with my wild sorrow 
in the burning of these bitter tears. 


Susan Ashley 
December 2, 2018


~ First Place ~
Contest: NA the day away
Sponsor: Lu Loo
*N/A’d: Best Free Verse 2019 Poetry Contest*


~ Honorable Mention ~
Contest: Your Choice (2) Any Theme, Form
Sponsor: Brian Strand


~ Poem Of The Day ~  
December 4, 2018

Premium Member In the Sun's Last Glow

On her terrace where she once had viewed a crimson field,
she stands recalling heroes who were battling their foe.
She still can feel the terror! How her poor heart reeled
thinking of her lover fighting on the field below,
with others on that plain bathed red as the sun dipped low.

The brave men lie in caskets which now are concealed
beneath a plain that ran with blood, where bright irises now grow.
She thinks of her own strong brave man, draped in white and sealed
forever in a casket too. He was her Romeo.
The sorrow flooding her she had never thought to know.

She looks down from her terrace with a heart that won’t be healed.
The mighty dead now lie in grassy fields. . . and lo!
Around the graves are swords, which are green blades revealed
with *purple flags that softly wave as a May wind starts to blow
and she is bathed in red again, there in the sun’s last glow.


* Purple flags refer to the name of the purple iris that resembles a flag
Submitted for Mark Toney's '2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 25' Contest

Premium Member Roses Roses Roses

In all her glory, dawn has burst forth,
With a slight glow of early morning brightness
I sit in the bower, listening to birds in concert
And admire wonderful, Rosebuds unfold,
Revealing a beautiful red rose
With a precision wisp of light prancing around them
Emitting a velvety feeling, so tempting to touch
Long green stems, prickles,
Full of scallop trim leaflets all in green,
With brown thin veins
Around the red velvet leaves,
Music playing on cool fresh air
Coursing through the whispering leaves
Sweet aroma of moist dew and rose perfumes
Floating gently on the breeze
Gives me an intense curiosity to embrace the rose
Just the sight of the red roses
Reminds me to breathe
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Strawberry

STRAWBERRY

Can you feel the warmness of the sun, 
reflecting off the red tones of my hair.
The sun touching the edge of my toes!
My seasons true nature ignited by a layer of flares.

Can you feel the stars shine for me at night?
While the moon beams a color of envy.
Can you see me lost underneath the crimson tide in the clouds.
Some where out there my eyes wonder for you.

Can you feel the fresh bruise in my strawberry heart?
As it bleeds every day just for you!
Wondering if life can ever be sweet like sugar and glue.
Crying under the night and its skies is how it would seem.
Lost in a midnight red field in a forever dream.

Can you feel the texture of my wounds?
They feel rugged like rocky mountain sour berries.
Covered in daiquiri as I drown under the rivers current.
Attracting canaries to enjoy my wild strawberries.

Can you feel the wings of my broken dreams?
Here I am falling off the cliff and the feeling of love.
Abandoned like a batch of strawberries for its flaws.

Do you see me standing with a sad look.
Can I show you all them hammer hits I took.
That will be the end of story, to my book.
How my strawberries have beauty that you over looked.

by; p.d.

Premium Member To Bloom In Red Flame

Underneath all the layers
Of tradition
Of religion 
Of philosophy
Of reason and understanding
I smolder
In passion's pleasure bed of red
Paroxysms of pleasure
Emanate from my core
Searing the shroud
Flames of fantasy's feast burn
Yearning I yearn and lie in wait
In my ambuscade 
with the relish to ravish ravaging 
every fiber 

Conceived in the throes of passion
My conception is my perception of life
Woven into my being
I’m prisoner to pleasure monomania
Obsession of desire hysteria
My cacoethes:  gratification gratified
Thus, I scintillate sparks
Riding on my satin flares
They captivate your stare

You see me
Feeling the heat of sultry flame
You want to play scorch torch game
So your reach out to touch
Mere kindling in my blazing wake
You quake as I slake your florid fantasy awake
Convulsing in temptation’s torment
You combust to lust
Consummating till consumed
Eliciting my passion flower bloom
In opulent oriental room
You swoon
Exertion exhausted
Gratification’s glory gained
Having tasted my reign
Revived, you leave
Yet…
My image I’ve seared
On your flesh and mind
Branded, you’ll find
Your way back to me
Slave to my passion's decree
You’ll come to me

And I retreat
Enshrouded once more
In virgin layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
of reason and understanding
Biding my time
when sensuality sublime
calls me
to bloom in her red flame

~*~*~*~again~*~*~*~

Eileen Manassian 

This is a repost that has over a thousand views. Just trying to remind myself of the glory days. I seem to be unable to write at the moment....and poets can be a strange lot. If you don't post...you're forgotten, at least by most. The feeding frenzy is for words..and if you're empty, you are neglected.  I'm glad I have friends who visit my older works even when I'm not around. I need to cultivate this spirit in my life because I know what it's like not to be visited....

Premium Member The Red Umbrella

I was going on a blind date and walked across town
The weather wasn’t kind, rain was pouring down
It was my friend’s sister and he arranged the date
She was nowhere to be seen, maybe just running late.

Then a girl with a red umbrella came towards me
Despite the pouring rain she was beautiful to see
She said” Sorry I’m late my bus it broke down
I’ve just had to walk half a mile across town.”

“Get under” she said “Come and take shelter”
I did as she asked and then I was beside her
I’d never noticed before and what a surprise
She had an angelic face and beautiful brown eyes.

Our eyes then met and to me that was a good sign
And from this day forward I vowed she’d be mine 
Never in my life had I ever felt this way
I was lost for words and didn’t know what to say.

I held her closely and we looked at each other
I would never have met her but for her brother
Then she pulled me closer and we started to kiss
I was in seventh heaven, oh this was pure bliss.

I thought in my mind, this girl would be my wife
And I was already planning the rest of my life
I’d marry her, buy a house and start our own family
Have holidays at the coast; go swimming in the sea.

I then heard a loud ringing, it had just turned seven
Lying there wide awake, I was no longer in heaven
Sometimes things are just not what they seem
The angel with brown eyes was just but a dream.

I got ready for work and then went to catch the train
The sky was full of grey clouds and it started to rain
As the train was pulling out I glanced over to my right
Stood holding a red umbrella; was the girl from last night. 


Written 31st October 2018



For screwed  xx poetry contest sponsored by
Rob Carmack.


Premium Member Roses Are Red - Collaboration With Ralph Sergi

ROSES ARE RED

The flower’s crimson cerise hue
creates the petal’s grand debut
of love and memories to recall
my florid sanguine gift of all

VIOLETS ARE BLUE

Azalea breath with foxglove tones
embellish with an azure clone
herbaceous with a petal white
where insects set and birds alight

SUGAR IS SWEET

Bright butterflies on zephyr breeze
sip nectar from Sakura trees
I watch them dance from break of dawn
on flowers where their wings adorn

AND SO ARE YOU

You sent me a bouquet of love
drifting down from heaven above
Candy kisses sweet as fructose
on bended knee you now propose

06-22-17
Collaboration Jan Allison and Ralph Sergi

Premium Member The Robin and the Sparrow

Oh if I were a true poet
one that could write a good rhyme
I would compose a few ones
and earn myself a dime.
 
Why, I'd write about man's folly,
as the robin said to the sparrow:
"Why are men so stupid
their minds so clouded and narrow?"
 
The sparrow cocking his head replied:
"They accumulate facts and lies,
Little caring about their true intent,
Alas, they are not really very wise."
 
The robin looked at his red breast,
remembering a Man on a cross,
how He bled, and sighed and suffered
all because of man's grace loss.
 
The sparrow nodded and smiled.
"Wisdom is not acquired by knowledge, my friend.
It comes when in our lives we've failed
and when we truly try to comprehend."

Premium Member To Bloom In Red Flame

Underneath all the layers
Of tradition
Of religion 
Of philosophy
Of reason and understanding
I smolder
In passion's pleasure bed of red
Paroxysms of pleasure
Emanate from my core
Searing the shroud
Flames of fantasy's feast burn
Yearning I yearn and lie in wait
In my ambuscade 
with the relish to ravish ravaging 
every fiber 

Conceived in the throes of passion
My conception is my perception of life
Woven into my being
I’m prisoner to pleasure monomania
Obsession of desire hysteria
My cacoethes:  gratification gratified
Thus, I scintillate sparks
Riding on my satin flares
They captivate your stare

You see me
Feeling the heat of sultry flame
You want to play scorch torch game
So your reach out to touch
Mere kindling in my blazing wake
You quake as I slake your florid fantasy awake
Convulsing in temptation’s torment
You combust to lust
Consummating till consumed
Eliciting my passion flower bloom
In opulent oriental room
You swoon
Exertion exhausted
Gratification’s glory gained
Having tasted my reign
Revived your leave
Yet…
My image I’ve seared
On your flesh and mind
Branded, you’ll find
Your way back to me
Slave to my passion's decree
You’ll come to me

And I retreat
Enshrouded once more
In virgin layers
Of tradition
Of religion
Of philosophy
of reason and understanding
Biding my time
when sensuality sublime
calls me
to bloom in her red flame

Eileen

The Red Wheelbarrow

The old red wheelbarrow is still standing there
right next to my Grandfather’s fixed rocking chair.
Though neither has moved in a good many years
their presence revives former  laughter and tears.

As children, my Grandfather placed us inside
the bright red wheelbarrow and off we would ride.
Down rough country tracks to the orchard we’d go
returning with plentiful apples in tow.

I once asked my Grandfather why it was red,
‘That was your Gran's favourite colour’ he said.
And red were the roses he laid by the side
of the grave where he mourned for his beautiful bride.

When Grandfather died, I just hadn't the heart
to cast on the scrap heap his rusty red cart.
And so by his rocking chair it shall remain
to take me on journeys down memory lane.




06/08/18

For Your Poetry Journal 	Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings

Premium Member From Dawn's Spirited Breath, See Red, Red Rose

(1.)
From Dawn's Spirited Breath, See Red, Red Rose

When Summer rose meets dawning's sweetest hush
Sun comes to bequeath its dawn bathing rays
Red beauty gleaming, rose stills early rush
Into man's world shines, another bright day.

With red rose petals spreading ever wide
Calming thoughts, heavenly blue ocean waves
One may from duty or play thus decide
No plucking, to rose's truest of beauty save.

Within Nature's truth, rests a native song
Of wanderings some lost souls have traveled
In desperate search for truth to belong
Hope, such tapestry, can be unraveled.

From Dawn's spirited breath, they see red rose.
And wonder why its color, Nature chose.

Robert J. Lindley,
Sonnet, Rhyme, ( To Gaze In Awe At Red Rose Radiant Colors )

(2.)
Red Rose, Sing Me A Sweeter Melody

Alas! Flowers winter breath soon must feel
Frigid wind, that fierce and dastardly blows
Pray I, mildest winter, on knees I kneel
Begging for Spring, when fantastic green shows.

Red rose, sing me a sweeter melody
Of paradise that hold Spring all the year
Casting winter's fangs into darkest sea
Allaying this man's dreaded icy fears.

Shall I, for deepest beauty thus reward
A plastic cover to thy life extend
For here blasting winter chill 'tis so hard
Harsh reality, let us not pretend!

Red rose, thy bright song must for a time end.
Solemn vow held as, magnificent friend!

Robert J. Lindley,
Sonnet, Rhyme, ( Red Rose, To Admiring Heart, Thy Truest Song Sing )


(3.)
Then Red Rose Blushed Its Petals Brightest Red

Songbirds to red rose, thy colors cry out
Bestow thy harmonious songs as gifts
We sing melodies while flying about
Hoping thy red souls it truly uplifts.

Red rose, songbirds assuredly you know
In my soft flowerbeds I welcome thee
In Mother earth's soil I happily grow
With pleasure serve her busy honey-bee.

Listen Mother Nature so softly said
Birds to you, I giveth earth and blue sky
To red rose I gift my fine virgin beds
None but blinded man would be asking why!

Then red rose blushed its petals brightest red
Proving to all, truth Mother Nature said!

Robert J. Lindley, 11-27-2019
Sonnet, Rhyme, ( Red Rose, Songbirds, Mother, Nature- A Conversation )

Premium Member Behind These Red Brick Walls

I remember living quietly inside these red brick walls,
a soul, wandering alone through those dark, empty halls,
this is the place where I used to rest my weary head,
now you, another poetic heart, are dreaming here instead.

I was just a poet, a soul like you, so do not be afraid,
this is where I once lived, and this is where I stayed,
I want to whisper my secrets to you, late after midnight,
just hear my faded words, and I will remain out of sight.

There was a lonesome time when I wrote poetry, too,
now I am here, to be your muse and inspire you,
100 years ago, I lived on the other side, only now,
I dwell just behind these red brick walls, somehow.





(A sequel to my poem, "These Red Brick Walls")

Premium Member Senryu- In My Red Dream

a red butterfly
stirred me from my crimson sheets-
                           kissed my scarlet lips


_____________________
March 2, 2016


Poetry/Senryu/in my red dream
Copyright Protected, ID 16-763-501-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

For the contest, United Colours: Red
sponsor, Silent One

Second Place

Premium Member Blood Red Moon

Blood Red Moon

Deep devouring passions bleed now from this solar eclipse 
As black blood flows from an evil army of “undead” beings 
Whose fangs hideously and cruelly pierce the veins of their 
Mesmerized and unsuspecting victims who are held at bay.

In such silence burdens prowl inside deep sad heartbeats 
As ghastly living shadows creep eerily in and knot the 
Tortured guts of a twisted scared bloodless life falling 
Under the dark macabre gaze of the Blood Red Moon.

At night uncanny black magic spells are intoned in the 
Old Latin scripture as large spider webs cast a gloomy 
Presence and envelope now all those trapped by them as 
The misted breath bleeding hearts howl to Heaven’s roar. 

Standing upon a rugged and lonely mountain crossroad 
There can be no release from the devilish glare of the
Vaunted “Blood Red Moon” whose evil presence pervades
Every breath you take and casts a demonic derisive stare.

My senses are now frozen in place as a deep chill shakes
My soul to the very core of its primordial existence as I 
React to the cutting cold of a dawning maleficent darkness 
Invading every corner and space of my psyche and existence.

The wicked jaws of a rabid beast seek now to bite and rip
All beauty from me and all thoughts I hold close and dear 
As I gasp now for life and painfully feel my tired heartbeat 
Slow as my immortal soul numbs and cries crocodile tears. 

I’m cursed now to walk alone forever as my spilled remains 
Are cut now and my ties of human existence have disappeared 
Putting me on the ground on all fours as I ponder my ultimate
Fate in the hands of a supernatural force beyond any mercy. 
 
As the shadow of Lucifer’s Blood Red Moon passes over my
Tortured face I spy a look at one demonic siren prompting me
Now to follow her as my body is placed on a sacrificial alter
And my life ebbs away as I’m kissed by spirits of the damned!

Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 11, 2015 
(Narrative Quatrain)

Premium Member Rhapsody In Red

When morning breaks in shades of wine...
  with claret skies to blush the dawn...
     I will stretch and yawn, and thank the night
           for this polished, apple day
 
I will wait until the sun is high, where dew upon the rose is dry
I'll have my cup, .. with toast and jam...
then, make escape, ..........the quest begins,
                                                              to seek my small reward

It happens slowly...
          gathering reason from an untamed mind
            Up into the meadow where the brambles climb
              twisted and tangled, through burgandy vines
               while deftly my fingers, will probe the maze
                and reach for wild berries,.....warm from the haze

Then, thumping their goodness, one after one
into the bucket, dented and worn
A search through thorns, a prick on my thumb
      till my back is ripe, and wet in the sun
           
Finger painting my faded blue jeans
  Knowing my cheeks are flushing in pink
    Sucking sweet juice from two crimson thumbs
         Who cares a lick, of the thorns or a bee?

I am a bee, buzzing serenity...
     plucking small bits of reason and sanity
           taking home goodness in a battered tin pail
              feeling alive, on a wild-flowered hill
             

Tonight's sweet delight, is warm berry cobbler, 
  oozing with goodness of juicy red gems
    staining my tongue, and turning lips scarlet
      dripping blood droplots onto my chin
          
Yet never as splendid, or tasting as fine, 
    as warmed by my smile, straight from the vine

       Picking red berries, and freeing my mind
                                      *   *
                                            * *
                                       *      *
                                                  *
                                             *   
           counting vermillion clouds that are spun
               then heading back home, with the red crimson sun
                  




_____________________________________
For Shadow Hamilton's Contest: "Colours"
 5/4/13
Resubmitted to Skat's contest:

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