Someone on the TV
told me bright sunshine
red sky at night
the outlook is fine
and the app on my phone
says blue skies are due
but when has the forecast
ever been true
it seems like the Sahara
with no oasis in sight
and just another foolish dream
to see me through the starry night
a voice on the radio
said the storm will disperse
things won't go south
or take a turn for the worse
but it's an ill wind won't blow
all the grey clouds away
no matter what
the weatherman may say
it was an ill wind
blew for you to stray
and it's an ill wind
won't bring you home today
"A crimson sky breaks the distant shore,"
beaming an omen from the opened draw.
Highlighting a warning to fear, abhor?
Or perchance, a delight joyously to adore?
Which way do I look and when, for this brainstorming.
To read the sky bathed in crimson blood swarming?
Looking left at dawn, I get a warning, yawning!
Looking right at dusk, I get delight, informing!
Red sky at night, red sky at dawn,
What lies between, as day is dusted done, then newborn?
For at both birth and death, blood is often shed forlorn,
spreading its crimson veil, upward into the sky to adorn.
What if I'm not a shepherd or a sailor?
But, a land-blubber, or a tinker tailor?
How should I read the sky's loudhailer?
Perhaps I'll sleep, and wait for the trailer!
The Ocean has no conscience,
no judgment, joy, or hate
She dances with you to her beat
in stirring waves of fate
With reverence you may enter
all blessings on the day
But just one slip and she reminds
what ancient mariners say…
“Red sky at morning, sailors take warning
red sky at night, sailors delight”
Her message best taken when early to bed
life in the balance, her power to dread
(Rosemont Pennsylvania: June, 2022)
Did you see My 'Red Sky' at morning?
Listen to the Lord's stern warning!
Is it loving to sidestep My truth,
To judge My words as uncouth?
To bow to the oppressor's greed,
For wont of material need?
While striving for earthly treasure,
Do your scales conceal true measure?
Watchmen are dissuaded to preach
About boundaries not to breach.
What My Spirit strives to restrain,
You cut His restraints to obtain.
It's all lies conceived in the mind,
Groping through life like you're blind.
You're missing My 'Red Sky' at night,
And you wonder what caused the blight.
Remove My rivals from your hearts!
They're not Sovereign, but upstarts.
There's no fear of Me in your eyes,
So you fail to discern My 'Red Sky'.
Return to Me, regain your sight,
For My judgment is now in flight!
Do not neglect 'signs of the times',
Watch for My return - anytime.
For giving My 'Red Sky' at night,
Is always your Savior's delight.
Sunrise at Sea
past salt sight sun rises
rubs the whitecaps from her eyes
stretches forever
# 34
air heavy with spice
salt crisp on my lips and mind
eyes blinded by stars
Exile
callous bejeweled
I’m keeping secrets hidden
salt upon my skin
Gulf of Mexico
watching the moon set
sinking into the Black Sea
orange slice slowly
Red Sky at Night
Sailors delight night
waking in strangest place
I did it sideways
#35
now too long at sea
always another gangway
now too long on land
Port of Call
if my ship comes in
sails slow into your harbor
will you be waiting
The Rivers Current
Flows in this Mind
Visions Drifting
Propelled to the Waters Edge
Pockets of Wind
Lead them to Their Port
Docked
I can only watch
Binoculars give a close view
Their Course is Set .....
Remember Once You Set Sail ......
There is No Turning Back.......
Navigating ones Head and Heart......
A red sky at night
Can be a shepherd's delight
Or house on fire
Spring high, spring low, springtimes springs show.
Cavorting lambs frolic in play.
Fell farmers fearful of the snow,
As shepherds, they know natures way.
Springtime is soft when breezes blow.
Snowdrops now fading day by day.
Woodlands are bathed in evenings glow.
Red sky at night, old wives will say.
It's blossom time, spring flowers grow.
This floral bounty will display
All splendour where our rivers flow,
On mountain side and seashores bay.
Spring brings us Heaven, when lifes low.
Our senses kissed, by it's bouquet.
3/ 3/ 2015.
horny adults
sweating in a public room
publicly displaying
what they think they can
flaunt
(all the possible tricks in
their trick bags)
doused in perfumes/colognes
strutting their stuff
speaking with wit
speaking of their
accomplishments---with
sex on the mind & an animalistic
heart---
pumping blood in the veins
like a thousand wild horses
trampling & galloping
o’er the countryside
whilst the red sky at night
casts the hottest Summer
passions
down
down
down
below---
and so,
the humans come
aggressively at each other
(more so than they might
at any other given time during
the week),
to mix & mingle
to rub up against one another
“accidentally”
(like a cat gliding against the
wall, but with sensual intent),
to make each one of these
minutes of the witching hours
count,
for this is the time
at which we are most aware
that so little actually
distances us
from the true beasts
within &
no one wants to wake up
tomorrow morning,
unless they are covered in
the juices &
nectars of
another.
How does 1 cut the hair on a head that's no longer here,
prolonged was the shadow with holding tender mercy.
With I left needy, no 1 to toast our final beer.
Since have I found no inner peace,
instead I poured your love into 3 neice.
Believing you flew free upon release,
back to the deck of the Cavalier,
moored off the Cape of Good Hope
where you finally found that you belonged there
Sat on the pier, red sky at night,
Gerard's delight...
The optimist sees hope:
in the springtime sunlight
and the red sky at night
by the common man's foresight
in the free speech birthright
(Why not try one yourself in my latest contest' RHYME TIME'
the red sky at night
bleeding passion to the sea
hissing as it cools
a red sky at night
and red sky in the morning
sure has some old roots
Morning is but the infant day
Born of the womb of time.
A babe that speaks to those that hear
A language so sublime.
The sky with blood from birth is stained
Foretells of coming rain.
Red sky at night is his delight
At dawn a sad refrain.
That sailor in that ship at sea
That farmer by the brook
They know the signs, they read the sky
Like you or I a book.
While wet or dry this day shall be
Both yours and mine to keep.
Until it's hours reach 24
And then it too shall sleep.
Why gaze we then at painted sky
And dwell upon this thought?
Let's merrily go forth and live
This day that time has wrought
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.