Poetessa speaks..

Poète, scénariste et parolier....Scottish dilettante and poet. This blog has some of my current poems, as well as those of other poets I admire.

Saturday, 21 August 2010

Red

Red

(For two voices)

First Voice:

The tulips red

Not yet opened glance

At me

Noticing my eyes.

Peonies

White with yellow centres

Delicate

Like her elegant wrist in ruffles--

They turn away

And favour the room

Over me.

The world is not yet safe

It hovers

Tired animal

Unsure

If I would make

A worthy prey

Destined

To dread

Colour

Yellow was my fate yesterday

I saw it biting

Everywhere.

Voice Two:

Now I try to hide in red

Why is it a sinking

Thing?

It seems to shift like clay

But its redness

Growls and

Growls.

Speak!

The tulips say

Why have I chosen the

Insistence of red?

It’s everywhere like

Cherry orchards.

I should lose myself here instead

In the turquoise folds

Of these velvet curtains that drape

And fold the empty stage.

I long to disappear

Into the soft darkness of their pleats.

Coda:

Red knows how to laugh

Knows its origins

Are in wildflowers

Indian paintbrush

Painted on faces first

Or else on jars

Red knows mystery

Knows the place where the sacred lies

It is the color of the color

Of our liquid life.

Red knows itself

Through and through

It is the color of desire—

Red knows itself

On the blackbird’s wing—

In the flaming Autumn leaves.

Red knows and knows

Itself

As Love.

1 comment:


  1. Illuminated from the side by a projector,
    who imitates the sun,
    pointing his arrows
    between the hollow of the mountain,
    I see you, alone on the stage.

    I should rather get lost here
    in the purple folds
    of these velvet curtains
    who drape the empty wall,
    Garden side.

    I want to disappear
    in the soft darkness of their folds.
    Indian summer
    continuing his liquid life
    with its purpurine color.

    There is still this bouquet
    of the red flowers
    on the stage.
    Such intense red,
    let him cry out the hue of desire.

    The rest of the decor
    is like a jewel case,
    whose shadows cannot be seen.
    I risk a step
    and it's your hand that I hold.

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