"reddest" poems
In the supermarket airport
There are arrivals every day.
The departures in your trolley
Come to you from far away.
Those brightly coloured vegetables
Have sat around for days
In what we’re told are
such hygienic backroom bays.
They’re obviously picked and packed by well paid sprites and elves!
Then magically appear on your supermarket shelves.
Here every carrot is straight and clean
And every lettuce crisply curled
Then gassed in plastic packets
That are filling up our world!
Take a glance inside your trolley
And if what I say is true
Then I guarantee the food within
Has seen more of the world than you.
Like the picture on the packet
Of your frozen ready meal
The colour of this far flown food is great
The taste experience, surreal.
Those ripe tomatoes in their reddest skins
We should dye brown, to match their taste
Those vivid orange carrots are a mystery of flavour-
What a waste!
A plate of vibrant promising hue
Can taste of packaging and glue.
The supermarket tells you you’re in clover
But its goods have all the texture of an old pullover.
Your supermarket says that it is catering for you
But if you’re honest do you really think that’s true?
If you don’t then there is something you can do.
At the supermarket airport
All the money’s in departures
So put that trolley back
And just depart.
If you're wanting to be vocal
Then shop seasonal and local
And hit these psuedo airports at their heart.
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 6:57 AM UTC
The clock strikes, the hour shines
A warm rain brings fruit to the vine
An evening cool, a freshness divine
The sweetest grapes, the finest wine
In this hour, time churns
Life breaths, an ember burns
And ever still, the earth turns
As a glowing moon crosses the sky
Waves crash to shore, minutes grow dim
A cool wind directs a flowing hymn
A mornings warmth, a sparkling gem
The reddest rose, yet the greenest stem
But in this hour, time dissuades
Life chokes, the ember fades
And ever still, the earth waits
Until a garish sun crosses the sky
~D.B. Guy ( December 14, 2008 )
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
*I sat under a paper umbrella of the reddest hue autumn
and like an apple
I waited for you to pick me ripe
bite, smell my neck
and remember.
I sat on bench of grey weather boards
waiting to be thrown down upon them-
wanting to be pinned down upon them.
Feet on a rug of discarded
leaves, just like me.
discarded but beautiful.
still just a season long
season woman,
can you love me winter long?
Ill meet you on the snowy bench.
white puffs of apologises will float from my mouth.
my toes will shake and the fence we loved for being red
we'll love for being white.
Red will now slither to my ears and you will say things I can't hear.
And the stars will paint the sky too dark so we
can see that winter sparkles.
Spring is full of other lovers, this bench-
lovers that are not you and I.
And the playground is full of candy wrappers and mothers sneakers.
The trees are majestically green stretching and yawning and showing off.
The children bouncing, whining, crying, finding.
Spring is full of lovers but not us
so she gives my heart to summer
and glass doesn't melt so the places where I like to feel your sweat
are the places where they like to touch my body.
summer makes us reckless and the bench, our bench is being held together by the squirrels claws and the sparrows talons... they wait for us to scatter.
hot you kiss my dampness, damper.
hot you kiss my pain and sorrow. boiling all the past good voyage.
our fence has lost some posts as,
the children love to climb and kick
it will hold on, still.
but it won't hold-out and won't hold-in which is what fences are meant to do.
at least they should... they should choose.
Autumn, yes it's autumn ours. We are autumn lovers
with leaves of the book skittering beneath the empty slide.
We are autumn, smell like the burning leaves of who we were.
Smelling like the fresh cut wood, ready to have her rings counted
Autumn lover, hold my hand and tell me you are afraid.
Autumn lover, holding color golden like a circle round.
Hurry, before she blows me past the red fence,
Hurry before our secrets get caught by the wind and dance around the playground.
Hurry Autumn lover,
Hurry to remember that you loved me, once.*
Shannon April Alice
11/2/14
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 2:57 AM UTC
Space and dread and the dark--
Over a livid stretch of sky
Cloud-monsters crawling, like a funeral train
Of huge, primeval presences
Stooping beneath the weight
Of some enormous, rudimentary grief;
While in the haunting loneliness
The far sea waits and wanders with a sound
As of the trailing skirts of Destiny,
Passing unseen
To some immitigable end
With her grey henchman, Death.
What larve, what spectre is this
Thrilling the wilderness to life
As with the ****** shape of Fear?
What but a desperate sense,
A strong foreboding of those dim
Interminable continents, forlorn
And many-silenced, in a dusk
Inviolable utterly, and dead
As the poor dead it huddles and swarms and styes
In hugger-mugger through eternity?
Life--life--let there be life!
Better a thousand times the roaring hours
When wave and wind,
Like the Arch-Murderer in flight
From the Avenger at his heel,
Storm through the desolate fastnesses
And wild waste places of the world!
Life--give me life until the end,
That at the very top of being,
The battle-spirit shouting in my blood,
Out of the reddest hell of the fight
I may be snatched and flung
Into the everlasting lull,
The immortal, incommunicable dream.
4.7k
My little mermaid
has the reddest hair in the land
She funny, she crazy she never bland
She an artist with a big heart
she's a heartbreaker she will tear you apart
She's beauty and she grace
and if you talk **** she will rip your face
My little mermaid
~latrin
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 2:45 PM UTC
I drown
and glimpse Poseidon's kingdom
I fall
and I am lifted by the winds of Anemoi
My heart looks into
medusa eyes
And I run freely about the lair of Eris
I clutch the moon
in the wake of Hecate
as the war is waged against
Selene's solar bounty
Lethe guides my hand into ignorance
Ponos holds my head high
in the face of my deepest fear
Theia bares Eos to me
and I offer the reddest rose
for she is the light
that lets Helios reign
Feb 16, 2019
Feb 16, 2019 at 9:36 AM UTC
841
A Moth the hue of this
Haunts Candles in Brazil.
Nature’s Experience would make
Our Reddest Second pale.
Nature is fond, I sometimes think,
Of Trinkets, as a Girl.
3.2k
On her velvet lips
Reddest at night,
Before the slips
Of careless slight,
A smile that grips
My heart tight
Plays, and strips
Me of each right.
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 10:03 AM UTC
I always saw, I always said
If I were grown and free,
I'd have a gown of reddest red
As fine as you could see,
To wear out walking, sleek and slow,
Upon a Summer day,
And there'd be one to see me so
And flip the world away.
And he would be a gallant one,
With stars behind his eyes,
And hair like metal in the sun,
And lips too warm for lies.
I always saw us, gay and good,
High honored in the town.
Now I am grown to womanhood....
I have the silly gown.
2.3k
If lies are things off which they live
And they promise what they cannot give
They may wave her the reddest flag,
but to me, they’re glittering glass.
If magicians they be, I stand gawking;
Turning somethings into nothing,
Hiding pennies up their arms—
But I’m sure they gave me the moon and the stars.
A peek in their magic cupboards,
All their secrets, mercilessly uncovered
And I wish for nothing more
Than to be just a little dumber
To better appreciate my generous lover.
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen chetries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With afacry, hand in hand,
For the world's morefull of weeping than you
can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances,
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.}
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To to waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For to world's morefully of weeping than you
can understand.
Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal-chest.
For be comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
from a world more full of weeping than you
can understand.
2.2k
I, too, saw God through mud, -
The mud that cracked on cheeks when wretches smiled.
War brought more glory to their eyes than blood,
And gave their laughs more glee than shakes a child.
Merry it was to laugh there -
Where death becomes absurd and life absurder.
For power was on us as we slashed bones bare
Not to feel sickness or remorse of ******
I, too, have dropped off Fear -
Behind the barrage, dead as my platoon,
And sailed my spirit surging light and clear
Past the entanglement where hopes lay strewn;
And witnessed exultation -
Faces that used to curse me, scowl for scowl,
Shine and lift up with passion of oblation,
Seraphic for an hour; though they were foul.
I have made fellowships -
Untold of happy lovers in old song.
For love is not the binding of fair lips
With the soft silk of eyes that look and long,
By Joy, whose ribbon slips, -
But wound with war's hard wire whose stakes are strong;
Bound with the bandage of the arm that drips;
Knit in the webbing of the rifle-thong.
I have perceived much beauty
In the hoarse oaths that kept our courage straight;
Heard music in the silentness of duty;
Found peace where shell-storms spouted reddest spate.
Nevertheless, except you share
With them in hell the sorrowful dark of hell,
Whose world is but the trembling of a flare
And heaven but as the highway for a shell,
You shall not hear their mirth:
You shall not come to think them well content
By any jest of mine. These men are worth
Your tears. You are not worth their merriment.
2.2k
A glowing ember I once was
Now all I feel as if I all I do is sit upon the colour blue, wetted by dissipating champagne fizz whilst being kept afloat by curved cold glass
The bottom of the bath is scaled with confusion and differently shaped stresses
An unquenchable vanity lies within
The clumps of gold leaf I dust my cereal with has blocked up my veins
When I think about kissing you my brain floods with the taste of the reddest, sweetest cherries, only within this act the most vivid aspect of my mind is lit up as if it were a neon light display
Only within the flow of this electric current I am gloriously and contently happy
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 5:10 PM UTC
Alabaster Affair
her skin was like a pure driven snow
laid behind the deepest blue eyes
and the brightest ruby red lips
you could not look at her and not
want to kiss those soft velvet lips
want to stare into those eyes
want to touch that skin
feel her run her long fingernail
up the spine of your back
to the back of your neck and chest
the nerve endings all over your body
exploding messages of pleasure
the chance meeting in the park
in an early spring warming sun
flowers beginning to burst with life
trees reaching up with their new leaves
you could not take your eyes off
sitting on the edge of the fountain
spewing a water spray from an angels mouth
two angels together in one slice of time
you waited as long as you could
it was time to return to work from lunch
and you had already run 10 minutes over
you walked past her dreading leaving
she looked up with those big blue eyes
and those ruby red lips began to move
you transfixed not realizing she was speaking
you stopped abruptly trying to clear your mind
but still no sound could be heard
only her big rimmed straw hat of white
the the bluest blue eyes
and reddest red lips
and her white alabaster skin
luckily she recognized the symptoms
and smiling put her hand on your arm
and waited patiently for the blood
to return to your brain
oddly she spoke with an island accent
how could this creature come from the islands
the sun and sand and alabaster
she was a princess mandated to sanctuary
on a holiday with her father
who was on business stop here in Atlanta
she knew no one here and the park
was just across the street from her sky suite
for some reason she felt okay speaking with me
now I was 30 minutes late as I took
a quick peek at my watch
you must go she asked?
Yes but can I show you the city later
Yes she smiled to me
I think I would like that
after getting her room number
I triple skipped, jumped and hopped
back to my office my head still abuzz
I stared into dreamland for the next 4 hours
you gonna stay over my boss yelled to me
I shook my head *** it was 5:05
he yelled you gotta date Rob
yes an affair to attend to I said
an alabaster affair
Gomer LePoet ....
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
A flower held hand as the young girl
reaches up for her mothers grasp
The reddest of velvet's reflected from
her tears on eyes as her poppy
stands proud and straight
Remember their sacrifice
As you join in their stand
An honour to hold one
Red poppy to hand
She knows why she's standing
She know no return
Her father not here now
His never come home
He fought for his country
He fought for his life
He fought for his honour
His family
Our life
Remember this girl that cries every night
No father to hold her
Is gone from this earth
Yet she is the proudest
A daughter could be
Because of her father
Gave life
For you
...and for me
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 10:53 PM UTC
i'd like to
meet someone and
be weird with her :
clever texting
between classes, short-
sweet thoughtplumes, sent.
to you.
cheeks blush the reddest;
(if i were to peck
them, i think)
with romantic symmetry
when we talk to each other
with giggles
and curiosity
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 3:15 PM UTC
𝄞:♫⋆｡♪₊˚♬ﾟ. °. ⋆༺ ☾ 𖤓 ༻ ⋆. ° 𝄞:♫⋆｡♪₊˚♬ﾟ.
Peacock feathers
perfection.
A baby panther yawning
yawning, sleek and
black, a swan leaning
back
stretching pristine snowy wings.
Petrichor, crisp musk, the feelings we bring
floating river feathers,
mother’s ozone after rain,
all
around
hitting soft
down.
The reddest of roses held to the sky.
The clearest of tears
we have yet to cry.
A silvery plate of oily green olives throwing back the sun,
of which they are , one.
( of which we all are)
so hard,
becoming one with nothing again in each passing breath.
Energy expended.
A thought, by moments.... in emotions
extended.
A child's coffin
The care of casket sheen — soft silken interiors now overflowing with the wet, inky blackness of squirming, over-lit salamanders. Writhing
Erupting.
Effluviant.
Rubbery little salamanders. Hitting the over polished marble floor
falling
yearning for freedom and little more.
Everywhere. So black and shiny .
Overflowing , spilling out they wander
and we
wonder
what is it all about.
all this cascading and spilling out. Bouncing, smacking.
Nature. The nature Of art and beauty.
Understanding, the great misunderstanding
right before our eyes. Right. before. Our eyes.
Rite before our eyes.
Eyes, another’s . What we truly long to see.
The clarity of symbols built over centuries
and lost in a single fire/trend.
Feb 6, 2025
Feb 6, 2025 at 12:23 PM UTC
o splendid child most whOlly pure and sweet (
angelic, come to claim your worldly place)
de
scend
ing, born to mother of the street
Leda to some (on the
down-low) Zeus
effervescent incandescent eYe s
illuminating darkened cornered souls
of passers-
>snappingsnarlingstomping<
by
with savior's grace found now(here)
perfect whole
unearthly beauty neon ((halo)) glows
mirrored
on her palest golden hair
from reddest lights and bar signs
Her steps float
above the concrete-footed walks and stairs
to which we're tied.
Just child's play (yet it seems
that in her wake a cityblock's
)redeemed
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 8:14 PM UTC
Come softly
silver rain, come
softly now my thoughts,
heavy as October's reddest hue
in hours shed these patched conceits
of dry leaves, curled
along the Summer road,
become some vast appalling wilderness...
Your hands, an Autumn dream,
cast a thick red sap
upon the swollen planes of my body,
crouch in a stealth pathos
of grey leopard cells,
as they well, wild with faith
and thirsty prayer...
Come away
from these stale Summer breads,
for your kisses
are a much softer fate
than wisdom, come
the ease of rain, softly
silver rain...
Stay the solemn night
with leaves, bedeck
my perilous flesh,
let it ascend
its grey latitudes
in blizzards of dogwood,
kindling songs on paperchains...
My hands,
string an alphabet
of silence, tied
by hours of rope,
inviolate, palms
clasped to glass, two
hummingbirds, quiet...
Stilled, joined, unbind
to close into fists, come Autumn
the season of bearing,
the rich red earth darkens and drinks
our tears, and now, never
the ease of rain, falling,
come softly,
softly silver rain....
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 4:15 PM UTC
To love is to derail your path
put aside your own desires
throw yourself upon the pyre
to feed the fires that burn in someone else's heart
an act of madness from the very start
not a sacrifice, for that implies regret
yet we impale ourselves, to feel love's sting
on the reddest rose with the sharpest thorn
the sweetest pain which must be borne
a beautiful sabotage
Nov 22, 2023
Nov 22, 2023 at 12:26 PM UTC
There were birds, and yesterday's flowers,
the children laughing, never noticed fall retreating
or when winter began, forest faeries sprinkled snowflakes,
sparkling to cover the land, with magic until the Spring again,
when all their days were deep in lilies, silken petals
held dear in tiny hands, and very soon
Summer berries, reddest cherries
were laden sweetly, solely
just for them.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
Come softly
silver rain, come
softly now my thoughts,
heavy as September's reddest hue
in hours shed these patched conceits
of dry leaves, curled
along the Summer road,
become some vast appalling wilderness,
your hands, an Autumn dream,
casts a thick red sap
upon the swollen planes of my body,
crouched in a stealth pathos
of grey leopard cells,
as they well, wild with faith
and thirsty prayer,
come away
from these stale Summer breads,
for your kisses
are a much softer fate
than wisdom, come
the ease of rain, softly
silver rain,
stay the solemn night
with leaves, bedeck
my perilous flesh,
let it ascend
its grey latitudes
in blizzards of dogwood,
kindling songs on paperchains
my hands,
string an alphabet
of silence, tied
by hours of rope,
inviolate, palms
clasped to glass, two
hummingbirds, quiet
stilled,joined,unbind
to close into fists, come Autumn
the season of bearing,
the rich red earth darkens and drinks
our tears, and now, never
the ease of rain, falling,
come softly, softly silver rain....
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
[ Do you love flowers? ]
Honestly speaking, I do love flowers,
not the ones I have to give showers.
I do like beautiful flower gardens and more,
not the ones I have to mow oft or to care good for.
I love to go walking every morning,
to watch all birds in the trees singing and fluttering.
Walking along emerald meadows, where diamonds do grow.
All kind of gems and flowers, according to my list, you know.
One special kind attracts my attention,
in fact I never care, but this time it was never my intention
to discover such delicate jewel, these rare flowers
a reddest colour was smiling at me lovingly, all hours.
Do I wish to turn my eyes from this flower or not,
I took paces back to be on that hottest spot.
Why does this flower attract mine attention?
since it was looking at me with such fine perfection.
Oh, you have never seen such a most wonderful plant,
this is only able, I reckon, through God's greatest grant.
This flower had such a beauty of its own, it did not pose,
a jewel of a flower, as red, as wild and most beautiful.
As a gem, a jewel of a flower, it did never pose
it is a mesmerizing wild rose most beautiful….
….most passionate.....my ardent Rose….
© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright protected
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we’ve hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.
Away with us he’s going,
The solemn-eyed:
He’ll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than he can understand.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 7:09 PM UTC
Gone be yon melted summer's day
Whilst shrouded in robes of sorrow
That never quill of a bard can portray
Nor years unborn may ever know
When a fair maiden pottered my way,
Gently as drops of descending snow.
Her eyes fairer than burnished gold
Illuminated the vast shadowy night,
Ebony hair upon her seraphic body rolled
With a diadem of reddest roses bedight
That swifter than a gallant knight so bold,
I plunged to Elysium at such a sight.
For she bore beauty of a silvery moon
In lone splendor upon heavens bay,
The pulchritude of sun beams by noon
Against the sea on a fine blazing day.
Now that love casted her novelty boon,
Timidly I gravitated towards her way
And in fables faintly whispered unto her:
"Little maiden, little maiden, little maiden,
O queen fairer than chalcedonic luster;
Are flowers of yonder golden Aidenn
More fair and redolent than thou are?"
This did gladden - I strayed in a garden;
Her garden of ethereal pulchritude
Where no mortal ever walked through
And now doth hearts gambol with glee
'Neath elm leaves bedight with stars above
That the beauty queen calls it balm of Gilead
To visit her garden - a garden of love.
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angels, California, USA
12th/09/2018
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 5:26 AM UTC