Category: Poems

Red

 

Red

The color of blood

The color of love

An eternity above

 

A dance of grace

A beautiful place

A speck of lace

 

The sign of death

Perhaps from meth

A final breath

 

The apple I see

Maybe even me

Or a shout of glee

 

A tinted gaze

A menacing haze

An endless maze

 

A blooming flower

The sparkling shower

Please don’t cower

 

A ribbon that flows

The underside shows

The dust that blows

 

A smear of clay

A game to play

The end of day.

This poem is about describing the color red. No one can exactly explain what a color looks like, but to me, it’s not simply a color in itself. It is experiences and objects that come to mind. When I think of the color red, I don’t see a blank wall shaded red; I see all these images: Blood is one of the first (perhaps from a broken hymen, perhaps from a grisly murder), love the second. But still more overwhelm my brain. I picture heaven above a sunset. I see graceful dancing figures intertwined in red veils, a place tinted red, making all the objects look softer and more soothing in appearance. I picture a hand in red lace and a slow, agonizing death. Meth I picture as red, as if to give a warning sign. The last breath of a man, turning red as his spirit flows from him. 

An apple I see of course, tracing back to kindergarten. I see myself with red inside; some evil… or maybe it’s just my burning happiness. There’s a rose and fireworks behind with people afraid of being blind. Eyes flash red, a red mist in Hell, where there’s no escape. I can see a hair ribbon, the belly of a furry dog a dull red, and the dust of a wasteland. I see the pioneers building houses of red clay, a sunset fading into night, and the game of life. 

Red exemplifies all these things to me. Each person is unique in how they relate and understand different words. To me, when I hear “red,” my mind jumps through all these images in a heartbeat, and through it, I gain enlightenment. 

The Question

My first boyfriend and I dated from sophomore year to senior year of high school. The beginning of the end happened on my 18th birthday, when I found some text messages on his phone of him flirting with another girl, making plans for a date later that day. He never actually cheated on me, but he said that he had been entertaining the idea for some time, and if I hadn’t found those messages, he probably would have gone through with it that day.

One thing that really irritated me with our relationship was that all he ever wanted to do was have sex. Even after we broke up (a few months after the text message incident), he kept calling me and texting me (especially while drunk), all for sex. He tried to use my hurt and love for him (because I did still love him, for years after) to guilt/bribe me into it.

Here’s a poem I wrote my senior year of high school during all of this, trying to work out my feelings.

The Question

All you do is blink and stutter

Can’t you see we’re now in the gutter?

 

No longer can I live with your lies and deceits

I won’t lie with you between your sheets

 

The blank face, those clear eyes

You seemed like such an innocent guy

 

But everything was covered with a mask

Now you’ve opened up along with the flask

 

The pulling, the tugging, it never ends

The same question again and again

 

When will you learn I mean what I say?

Stop trying to bend my words a new way

 

No means no and that’s all to know,

Please, I’m begging you—just go.

Black

Have you ever had a fear that has blacked out everything? Where blackness replaces vision, ringing replaces sound and silence replaces voice? Where inside, a ravaging bear is clawing at your vital and deepest emotions and personality? Where it’s scrabbling for purchase inside vulnerable memories? Where it leaves behind searing scars that constantly remind you of that blackness? Where your stomach churns, trying to digest the new horrifying information? Where acid drips, drips, scalding everything around? Where your head pounds with a million different voices each screaming a different chorus? Where each competes for focus, panicking, shoving, shrieking inside? Where your blood thickens, as if warning you it’s about to be shed? Where it takes conscious effort to keep moving, another distraction from that blackness? Where your eyes are like dead orbs, rolling about in your head, but making no sense of the sight? Where your nose picks up the stench of evil, which cannot even be possible? Where your ears clash, trying to muffle the sound banging on your eardrums? Where your skin prickles at every slight breeze, every breath, every touch? Where your mouth is shaped in an endless scream which never leaves the cage of your teeth? Where your hands tremble in front of your body, trying to cower, to cover, to hide from that blackness? Where your back is hunched, as if from a human too old to be walking this land? Where legs can barely hold you up, frozen to the ground in a perfect running stance? Where now you can take no more suspense, no more waiting? Where you just want it to be over, you wish to end the suffering? Where the blackness finally enfolds you when the last of your resistance corrodes? Where nothing, nothing but the blackness is there with you? Where for all eternity, you must live inside it, never resurfacing to rationality? Where the bear, finally winning, slumbers deep inside, waiting for the next crucial moment to awaken and begin anew its agonizing battle for black.

Thoughts? Let me know in the comments below!

Animal Eyes

In 2010, I wrote this poem in an attempt to cope. I had written many poems about it previously, but this is the one that survived the fire–literally. At one point, I was so disgusted with what I was writing and why I was writing it that I burned all of my stories and poems in our fireplace one winter.

Animal Eyes

10-22-10

Do you remember?
Most likely not.
Cloaked in a drunken haze,
You allowed us to rot.

My sister and I,
As close as could be
Only pieces of meat,
Did your eyes see.

You knew what to do,
You hid the acts from mother.
She didn’t see us,
For you were her lover.

“Kids will be kids,” she’d say,
As she thought we had lied
We were banished to our rooms,
Where alone, we cried.

For we knew you’d come again,
Next time Mom was out.
You’d lock the doors and windows,
So no one would hear us shout.

Pinned upon the bed,
We were undressed.
With animal eyes,
You slowly caressed.

We knew not to move,
Or the other’d get hit.
You manipulated our love,
So your desires you’d get.

My mind’s blocked out detail,
It pains me to recall
Those horrible nights with you.
I can’t believe you’d the gall.

Now at age fifteen,
I’ve still told no one.
That ten years ago,
You won.