Best Redness Poems

Why oh Why

A Collaboration between Seren Roberts, Tim Smith and Arthur Vaso

Poem inspired by Seren Roberts

Each poem written from a different view
The Murderer
The Murdered
The Mannequins...

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She hangs upside down in her night sky chair,
Chained to the heavens by ropes of bright stars
With rubescent cheeks and moonlight-soaked hair.
 
Wrists raw with...

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On The Edge

He lays flat on the floor
on the edge of his mind's cliff.
Taking notes, he wonders
“Is this life worth living?”

He tries to remember,
tries to...

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Heart's memory of sun grows fainter, 
What now? Darkness? 
Perhaps! This very night unfolds 
the winter. 
-- Anna Akhmatova

I remember the summer
of yesterdays, folded neatly
like...

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The golden hour for rising has arrived, and there are violet roses in the sky,
So, I bid hello to you, my robust friend, as the...

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A thousand dots of  bulbs flutter wildly
exploding into my summer’s  redness
to gather awed murmur upon these lips, 
my amazement tossed beyond open sills—

How...

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Blurry thoughts, hurried thoughts, they need to settle down. 
Too tired to move, to worn out to groove, I'm frustrated all around. 
Crazy voice, I...

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I take firm grasp of the handle
My goal reflected in the steel of the knife,
I put the knife to its green face
Its' checkered skin;

I flex...

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:::: , : - -:- - : , :::::
:::: ) ` - : : - `(:::::
::: / : : : :`\: : :\ ::::
::: |:...

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I’d been bitten by a mosquito she was such a hungry beast
She landed on my arm, and on my blood she had a feast
My arm...

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People say my anxiety is cute.
The way I wring my hands, stutter over my words, jump at loud noises, and blush easily.

The way I wring...

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On The Edge

He lay flat on the floor
On the edge of his mind's cliff
Taking notes
Wondering
is this life worth living

He tried to remember
Grasp onto
Happier times
Shadows of...

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In the dimmed theater, the stage is set
not for a play though, yet a performance 
one of baton, brass, notes, timpani 
the performance I have...

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,,,,,,,,,,~.~.~.~,,,,,,,,,,,


if ever i had two hours with you… or three,
the vacancy of this quaint café and barren
shores would be refilled with the pouring
of pink- frosted...

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Life has a funny way of smacking you,
not that I'm laughing,
at the sting of redness, 
left on my other cheek.

It is said that karma is,
a...

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