Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

You smolder red—glow purest red—you, burning charcoal,
you tuck yourself within the thinnest sheets of heat—
you lay yourself and pay yourself attention, golden
and great, and neverminding fate’s a grayish ash.

Your shoulder’s red, like blood it’s red, like red-winged blackbirds
with beaks, like rigid scissors, quick to cut apart
the stillness of tranquility when hearths are threatened—
and, seemingly, you’re like their hiding in a marsh.

Like soldiers red, like human bodies wrapped in lifeblood,
like dimly burning wicks whose wax is soon to kiss
like Judas kissed—your rose knows threats: extinguished
as if a field of blackbirds dead on New Year’s Day—

a bolder red than spilled from sacrificial pigeons;
a red, a tongue of flame at Pentecost, are you
and not the smoothly condescending dove of Jordan,
but red-winged for a world that needs a stronger flight.

Ist class poem.

a tongue of flame at Pentecost, are you
and not the smoothly condescending dove of Jordan,
but red-winged for a world that needs a stronger flight.
( Love these lines,)

ike dimly burning wicks whose wax is soon to kiss
like Judas kissed—your rose knows threats: extinguished

wonderful use of assonance, phrasing, and language... really nice

Joel, you know I like your poetry, and as far as I am concerned, with this poem you have surpassed yourself. The images are just incredible -- rich, strong, with meanings within meanings. You are saying so much and using such beautiful and subtle metaphors. It is a poem to read over and over. Sue♥♥♥