They were red,

Red with the vitality of youth,

Red passion for the fullness of life,

Throbbing red pulsing through them,

Red ready and bold,

Red love she had for him,

Red lust he had for her,

Red. They thought it better to marry,

Than to burn, burn red, red hot with desire,

Yes red,

Deep dark crimson red,

Was that red past

Filled with Red marks from a father’s fist of fury,

All he saw red,

He grew dangerously red,

Red fiery rage when,

He too became a red husband red father,

A source of red pain.

Deeply red,

Red flowing red,

And here comes the bride, red,

Comes the bride all dressed in red,

Soaking red through and through,

Red blood flowing from the daughter he raped,

Red bloody red dripping from the wife he abused,

Red, stained all red,

His hands are all red.

…………………………amare poeta

6 thoughts on “RED

  1. Well, this is easily the most graphic poem from your retinue I’ve read. WOW! Intense. The tragic imagery disturbs.


  2. at first i read it i got lost,so had to re read it again(3imes actually) and am glad i re read it,it has this ancourage of emotion and reality so entwined that i still cant defrentiate it,its one of those abstract pieces to me that ht the mind more than the heart.


    1. i think this was one of the hardest ones i have ever written. trying to catch the feeling as “red ” was a real headache. am glad it came through.

      thank you fwend 😀 😀


  3. Wow, the poem is dangerously red. Our sisters, (n Brothers) here are in red-hot soup.

    Does it remain an illusion about good, genuine and lovers out here? What about the sweet childhood dreams that have now to be replaced by a sense of apprehension?


    1. It is unfortunate that generation after generation, violence, misconceptions, distrust and all manner of ill is passed on. leaving a consistent red stain.

      thanx for givn it a read. 😀 😀 😀


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