Red Poems | Poemist

Popular Red Poems

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.

......

Warning

by Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens

......

A Red Palm

by Gary Soto

You're in this dream of cotton plants.
You raise a hoe, swing, and the first weeds
Fall with a sigh. You take another step,
Chop, and the sigh comes again,
Until you yourself are breathing that way
With each step, a sigh that will follow you into town.

That's hours later. The sun is a red blister
Coming up in your palm. Your back is strong,
Young, not yet the broken chair

......

Lament

by Dylan Thomas

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

......

The Ballad Of Reading Gaol

by Oscar Wilde

(In memoriam
C. T. W.
Sometime trooper of the Royal Horse Guards
obiit H.M. prison, Reading, Berkshire
July 7, 1896)

I

He did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,

......

Recent Red Poems

Poppies

by Ghairo Daniels

Poppies
I lay in your arms on a
Vacant bed of Poppies
Watching a midnight blue sky
As ancient ferns opened curtains wide

Cathedral upon cathedral
Passed before our vision
Each belled more splendid than the next

......

Cerc de roșu

by Sanja Atanasovska

Nu mai simt nimic.
Două uși mi-am sculptat în inimă,
una de intrare, alta de ieșire.
Am îmbătrânit cumpărând brățări de magie albă.
Paharele de sticlă îmi pizmuiesc fragilitatea.
Egoismul e un nod ce strânge conștiința.
Dacă lumea se sfârșește,
adună-mă în cercul tău de roșu.

poet- Sanja Atanasovska, North Macedonia

......

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.