My love of red has slowly been restored from the tainted days of my youth gut wrenching despair in those graded papers writing assignments, covered in slashes
And welts math problems, dissecting my personhood behind an
Array of zig zags hiding earnest efforts body blows to my humble offerings
Yet the ember continued to glow in the luster of the seasoned heartwood of the polished maple, oak or the burning sunsets, followed by the annual rites of passage of the autumn leaves announcing there good byes and the splendor of there passing yet some scenes remained, ageless as those in Utah canyons, subtle in the glow until the morning sun ,strikes those walls of rim rock
Oh the call of that red dirt over and over, driving me forward
INTO THE SETTING SUN into the western sky I ride life and death the color of red Snassano01-27-08
An amazing piece of writing, Stan... the imagery is striking!
Myrna
Reviewed by blue soplain (Reader)
Reviewed on February 2, 2008
[tears]...
well now.....
X immediately i think of bryce canyon [the austere glaze and gaze of those ancient cliffs] and sedona, az [all red bluffs and rocks, and the red dirt on my knees and palms]. ..
i think this is exactly what i was talking of; the etching of selves on souls. ..like some of those aesthetic voyeurs in the wild, carving their names on rocks:: the temptation is always there, but my fingers are too feeble to make sense of sand and stone with abandon...
and unfortunately, this quiet, thin line of love that pulses also reminds me of prophets, meandering and wandering in the desert [but not all who wander are lost; they are most likely found] finding themselves and beauty in every graceful arch of earth and body and spirit---wild and passionate---which is the very essence of red itself.
i hate, though, that at this moment your poem says goodbye of sorts. ... sabbaticals and all.. .hence the tears. ..
prophetic and hypnotic and emphatic indeed
scorched my soul; all reds and ambers and crimsons
all over
toujours~
ness
The color of blood seeps into our thoughts more than any other for it runs through our veins and is connected to so many other vibrant things in life,your poem points to many of them showing how red more than any other enchants your thoughts! Excellent poem,Stan!
Interesting journey and impact of red in your life. I have the same feelings about yellow - it's a whole other story,though. Thank you for this reminder about how certain color's impact our life.
My favorite color is red too for so many reasons. I salute you for the thitsy you have and for your creativity. May you never change a thing!
Love and blessings!
Susan
This is not a drill. The attack on Pearl. They were the ghost planes of the night, deadly, illusive, sharp-clawed Black Cats. The Memoirs of ARM H.P. Lawrence, a Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat, and decorated war veteran.
Join me as we travel together on the road called "Aging." I will be sharing my personal experiences with you and offer ideas on how we can better navigate the complex byways of our older years. Grief, healing, generations, ancestors, and more.
This is not a drill. The attack on Pearl. They were the ghost planes of the night, deadly, illusive, sharp-clawed Black Cats. The Memoirs of ARM H.P. Lawrence, a Pearl Harbor survivor, Black Cat, and decorated war veteran.
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Myrna
well now.....
X immediately i think of bryce canyon [the austere glaze and gaze of those ancient cliffs] and sedona, az [all red bluffs and rocks, and the red dirt on my knees and palms]. ..
i think this is exactly what i was talking of; the etching of selves on souls. ..like some of those aesthetic voyeurs in the wild, carving their names on rocks:: the temptation is always there, but my fingers are too feeble to make sense of sand and stone with abandon...
and unfortunately, this quiet, thin line of love that pulses also reminds me of prophets, meandering and wandering in the desert [but not all who wander are lost; they are most likely found] finding themselves and beauty in every graceful arch of earth and body and spirit---wild and passionate---which is the very essence of red itself.
i hate, though, that at this moment your poem says goodbye of sorts. ... sabbaticals and all.. .hence the tears. ..
prophetic and hypnotic and emphatic indeed
scorched my soul; all reds and ambers and crimsons
all over
toujours~
ness
"tainted days of youth" I was
there myself. We must reclaim "Red"
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :D
luv,
et
God bless you. Kathy
Exceptional poetry, one full of life. Well done!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Axilea
Love and blessings!
Susan