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Poetry Prompts: The Color Red

I started a challenge with some of my friends to write poems based off of color prompts. We're starting with red, and the rule is the first and last line have be the same, or very similar, and address some characteristics the poet ascribes to red. I'll be uploading them here as we finish.



My mother's poem:


Red


Decadence of dying embers


Reflected in glittering crystal stems


Of champagne and chardonnay


Velvet dress and cummerbund


Fire sparkling on gilded dishes


Ruby flashes from fingers and earlobes;


Unfeeling, uncaring opulence-


Revolutionary anger


Rising against the Opressors-


Decadence dying in red embers-


Red


Jacob's Poem:


Red skinned was Esau, what color his twin?

Hand on his ankles, he envied the hue;

Grasping his brother, his goal but to win

Isaac's own blessing, the line tried and true;

greater than gold and worth more than red stew!

Green became Jacob, so covered in phlegm!

Envious, hairy, and hidden from view,

The hand of the father, to fate would extend,

and the red blood of Jacob would spill for all men.


Lopez's Poem:


Red makes no sound

Red makes no sound

in a crowded room

you’re the only voice I listen to

Red has no taste

Crimson lips

makes my favorite foods seem dull

Red has no hair

Burning locks

That singe my fingers

Scolds the night sky

And makes the sun sets jealous

Red has no sight

The slightest glance

makes my whole world crash around me

Apocalypse oh Apocalypse I welcome you

But i will not welcome this

Red has no face

So why do i see you in my dreams at night

See you dart past doorways

Hear your laughter in the kitchen

Your breaths in the bed room

Your hands in between mine

Your head resting on my shoulder

You see..

Ive figured out now that

Red has no eyes

No nose

No smile

No neck to kiss

No hands to hold

No more memories to create

But…

Red has no tubes

No doctor visits

No monitors

No cold steel

No incisions

No chemo

No scars…

no pain

No men in lab coats saying

“there nothing more we can do”

As I lay these flowers on the cold ground

And read this epitaph in stone

I gently place my ear to the dry soil

Its then I realize

Truly

In the silence of the night…

Red… makes no sound…


Dana's Poem:


Красный - значит гарный, ни иначе.

Злобно цветят яркие листвы,

Бурно тусят, как бабочки бродяче,

Остатки лета ветвою занести.

А пусть горят, пока дрыхнует свет,

И год, и томление собачье.

Гобеленом алым буран пол-одет -

Красный - значит гарный, ни иначе.


Red can be beautiful and no other

Terribly blooming clear leaves

Tempestuously billow, like wandering butterflies

Bringing in a bough the summer's remains.

And let them burn, while color sleeps,

And the year, and dogs lament.

The blizzards half dressed in a crimson tapestry -

Red can be beautiful and no other


My Poem:


(Pending)


RJ's Poem (which does not count because I know he can do better):


Red is such a beautiful color

I want to paint with the red on my hands

To carry it and put it in the sand

I held on too tight

I made mistakes in the night

Although the night is calm now

Everything I have is gone now

You will be missed but remember

Red is such a beautiful color



Skyler's Poem:


My grandma planted a young red maple,

It's changing leaves and autumn staple,

A crimson blaze amid the sepia scene,

A grand departure from the foliage green,

Planted the same year I was born,

Red, to face the cold, we both adorn,

For the tree it's leaves, for me a coat.


My grandpa would work in his shop,

Windsor chairs would cover the cabinet top,

Green, black, and blue milk paint flowed,

Though Red undercoat when worn had showed,

The Red shown wear, use, and care,

His wish for their love made to bare,

For the chairs it's paint, for me a coat.


My mother would crochet afghans of reds,

Blankets, throws, covered couches chairs and beds,

Stripes and blocks and chevrons of colorful thread,

Lengths and widths from hand to hand and foot to head,

Warm and thoughtful gifts for all,

Providing comfort in Winter and Fall,

For Blankets it's yarn, for me a coat.


I was given a hand-me-down bulky Red coat,

Some old promotional piece forgot in a back closet tote,

Buffalo Brand Seed Co. with a Bison in white on the back,

Worn and cracked, threadbare  lined by a flour sack,

Given freely to keep me warm in the brisk cold air,

Unfashionable to many, a sign  and gift of care,

For most it's love, for me a coat.


****


I'm open to including random submissions as well- stay tuned for our exquisitely polished trash ❤

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