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Kat Astrid Mar 2015
She is the color of passion ー
    The heated sighs and whispers
    of promises to be broken in
    cold, lonely nights.

She is the color of kisses ー
     Chafed and bruised in stolen
      Moments, never to be
      experienced again.

She is the color of scorn ー
      Laughter, icy and vengeful,
      over desperate pleas as they
      fall to Bitter ears.

She is the color of women,
      of mother and child,
      Forgotten and forsaken ー
      a ransom paid for one eternal
      Night.
A piece that will be part of my poem anthology called Erebus & Eros. I'm still piecing the manuscript but I don't hesitate to share some of the pieces. You can say this is fitting for Women's Day (and yes, I know I missed it by a week)
Kevis Seymore Jan 2015
Blue, green, scarlet, and you,
Things that often fade to black,

Catch a fish with bait,
Teach him to cast,
Wrap him up with hate,
Save him for last,

Castles crumble, kingdoms fall,
Some will rise,
Listen for the call,
Die for the prize,

Blue, green, scarlet, and you,
Things that often fade to black,

Heavy clouds ride high,
Daisies in the field,
All is still, close your eye,
As the watchman turns to yield,

Catch a fish with bait,
Teach him to cast,
Wrap him up with hate,
Save him for last,

Blue, green, scarlet, and you,
Things that often fade to black,
Angie S Nov 2014
Two broken hearts
When they come together
They bleed out
From their fresh scabs
And they turn black
As the warmth from them
Trickles down
Dripping scarlet
Into our thoughts
And into our sanity
And we look down
At our intertwined fingers

As we scratch the backs of
Each other's heavily scarred hands
A murmur, our words
So porous and empty
They're carried away by the wind

"I love you"
"What if... two wrongs just made one huge wrong?" The basis of this poem.

I didn't write this about any of my personal experiences. If it makes you feel better or if you enjoyed reading it, that's all that matters.

I didn't even edit this poem or anything like that... This poem is really raw, to put it, and I'll keep it that way.
Dark Jewel Oct 2014
Roses like poison,
In the folds of a Diary.
Marking every contract.

A rose for a life,
To create a death.
Unspoken bloodshed.

A rose is poison,
With thorns of words.
A service to its master.

A rose is like poison,
It makes no difference,
If you are forgiven.

A rose is set,
Your blood is mine.
The Contract begins,
Bound by Blood.
To flirt with the twinkle of Virgo
And joke with the great body of the Atlantic,
Is to lustrate fertility; self-worth blossoms,
A great thing to occur.

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith

(Originally written 10/29/10
Revised 9/27/14)
mark john junor Sep 2014
me and scarlet came down the coast
she sat window seat
pressed to the glass watching the world flow
from rocket ships headed to the skies
and beach bunnies romping in sunshine
what a strange world this place is
filled with magics and mystic tides

a Spaniard stood here with his wooden ship
like he had just conquered a new world
but time left him just a set of footprints in the sand
and away to sea once more went he
falling off the edge of the world somewhere out there

scarlet and me stopped in small town
shared a plate and a cup
sitting at the feet of a stone saint
holding his own cup so we poured him some soda
and laughed as we ran in the rain
what a strangely wonderful place this florida
a moonlight dream paradise
the far shore we had always dreamed
Poetic T Aug 2014
Blankets covered the floor
White like forgotten snow
Ruffled in places,
Dust settled, grey patches in White
Foot touches floor, the blanket seeps red
Like a virus spreading ,
Consuming the white
The floor now like a wine,
A smell of copper
I touch the crimson,
A ripple spreads across the room,
From wall to wall,
Ripples come together forming more,
Then towards me they encroach
Liquid,
Scarlet,
Waves,
Washing over my feet,
A grip I feel as the crimson
Pulls,
Seduces,
Wrenches,
At my feet,
I collapse like a toppled tree,
The waves crash upon the wooden floor
Each like a hook pulling me in more,
Then I am consumed
Underneath the waves of crimson death
There is only darkness,
My screams unheard
Not alive,
Not yet dead,
I look up as the crimson turns white,
And where once there was liquid
There is now white sheets waiting patiently
For those who don't tread carefully
Only death does await.
In a life where everything I see is red,
And everything I hear are screams,
I can't help but laugh as I lie in bed,
At the sight of my blood red dreams.

Blood is my only friend,
it's crimson color brimming with life,
Blood is with me even in the end,
Gushing from my wounds and at the tip of my knife.

I bring death wherever I go,
For death is beautiful and bright,
The scarlet liquid's slow flow,
Makes my heart feel just right.

An insane dream it may be,
But even now I still laugh,
When the thought of blood comes to me,
And shows to me my crimson life.
My first poem :)
Helseivich May 2014
A scarlet sky besets the realm around me
Welcoming my existence to the plateau of life which I sought with great determination
Scarlet leaves dexterously fall to the floor with nimble grace
The cries of angelic beings invigorate my ears
I can only see their scarlet eyes as they observe me from the heavens above
And her scarlet hair which was more refined than honored silk itself
Swings in the wind as she faces me with a curious look of inquisition
The wind caresses her scarlet dress causing it to dance with a rhapsody of acceptance
Her gentle aura rivets our actuality as she extends her hand to me
Her dominion is now the reality in which I lie dormant
For the longest time, all I saw was red.

November 2011.
Captain Scarlet
Had a weakness for harlots
Who always wore scarlet as well.

This could sound
The death knell
For the show
Thundered Gerry.

It's so deleterious
I'm deadly serious
Less of the hoes
And more Thunderbirds Are Go.

Captain Scarlet's
Favourite starlet
However
Was no harlot
Even though
she always wore
Scarlet as well
But it was quite difficult to tell
That she was not so
Even if one was very clever.

Unlike Bobby Shafto.
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