Red Poems | Poemist

Popular Red Poems

Crazy

by Laxmi Prasad Devkota

1.
Oh yes, friend! I'm crazy-
that's just the way I am.

2.
I see sounds,
I hear sights,
I taste smells,
I touch not heaven but things from the underworld,
things people do not believe exist,

......

When I was a windy boy and a bit
And the black spit of the chapel fold,
(Sighed the old ram rod, dying of women),
I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wood,
The rude owl cried like a tell-tale tit,
I skipped in a blush as the big girls rolled
Nine-pin down on donkey's common,
And on seesaw sunday nights I wooed
Whoever I would with my wicked eyes,
The whole of the moon I could love and leave

......

Ripley

by Henry Timrod

Rich in red honors, that upon him lie
As lightly as the Summer dews
Fall where he won his fame beneath the sky
Of tropic Vera Cruz;

Bold scorner of the cant that has its birth
In feeble or in failing powers;
A lover of all frank and genial mirth
That wreathes the sword with flowers;

......

A Prodigal

by Elizabeth Bishop

The brown enormous odor he lived by
was too close, with its breathing and thick hair,
for him to judge. The floor was rotten; the sty
was plastered halfway up with glass-smooth dung.
Light-lashed, self-righteous, above moving snouts,
the pigs' eyes followed him, a cheerful stare--
even to the sow that always ate her young--
till, sickening, he leaned to scratch her head.
But sometimes mornings after drinking bouts
(he hid the pints behind the two-by-fours),

......

Green Chile

by Jimmy Santiago Baca

I prefer red chile over my eggs
and potatoes for breakfast.
Red chile ristras decorate my door,
dry on my roof, and hang from eaves.
They lend open-air vegetable stands
historical grandeur, and gently swing
with an air of festive welcome.
I can hear them talking in the wind,
haggard, yellowing, crisp, rasping
tongues of old men, licking the breeze.

......

Recent Red Poems

Garnet

by Evelyn Judy Buehler

Gadabout butterflies
glitter like red sunset.
Gem sparkles in the west.
Gracious nature provides
glamour hues in winter.
Glad robin sings, lustrous.
Goodbye, last robustness.

Flower of Christmas

by Evelyn Judy Buehler

mint green Christmas and
star shaped poinsettias point
at the golden hour

red plant revelry
and hoot owl's quiet in snow
mauve sun is setting

pretty centerpiece
where loved ones gather laughing

......

People's Voice at the End of Twilight

by Ayatullah Nurjati

at the edge of the red twilight, the voice of the people echoed weakly.
In unheard whispers, there is hope that is increasingly fading.
The streets are full of grey dust, leaving footprints without a new destination.

Behind the glitter of the bustling city, they are overlooked in a gloomy shadow of silence and peace. The voices of the people who are tired of screaming, reaching for justice which is increasingly difficult.

Burned by empty promises, but still hopeful in wounded hope.
Dusk turns into dark night, But the voice never went away. In the hearts of those who continue to groan, there is a prayer that strengthens the weary soul.

Strawberry Autumn

by Evelyn Judy Buehler

plump red strawberries
the kind we knew last red dusk
when time inched by brusque

garnet stars flash on
scarlet leaves and cardinals
mars phenomenal

crimson dragonflies
when fruitful days are going

......

A Silent Ballet

by Everleigh Blackburn

In the hush of autumn's breath,
leaves pirouette,
a silent ballet,
each one, a fleeting whisper,
unique in its descent.

Golden, crimson,
their colors bleed into the air,
twirling, spiraling,
a soft surrender to the earth,

......