Sunday, October 22, 2006

Blood Red

Upon the advice of a friend, I have decided to post some of my poetry. I don't believe it to be exceptionally brilliant but feel free to give me your opinions. : )

The soft feather like a spark aflame within her bright silken hair,
Creates a luminous aura about her head,
The gay spark’s color made with Divine care
Flowing blood red.
Her sweet and gentle laughter alights and flies above in the sky
As she finds the lovely roses in their soft bed,
In the gentle breeze their petals all cry
Flowing blood red.
As a keen nymph in the forest she utters a beautiful song
She listens to the brook and hears all that it’s said,
Its rust moss is breaking out to prolong
Flowing blood red.
Once she’s away from the celestial essence of the forest
The bleak gray town around her appears to be dead,
Her dress is a brushstroke that’s Heaven blessed
Flowing blood red.
The earth beneath her sinks and then bounces up with each new small step
The tough and barren soil of New England she treads,
Rain comes and melts the terra cotta earth
Flowing blood red.
The radiant colors dance in the darkened sky above the town
As the ink like rain in her light clothing embed,
The color is gushing out of her gown
Flowing blood red.
The drops of rain fall from her wet hair like diamonds from the deep earth
But land in the puddles like light pebbles instead,
Giving the clay earth’s small rivers new birth
Flowing blood red.
The rain begins to slowly stop and then the black night sky is clear
She dances on the flame hued leaves the trees have shed,
They continue falling like water clear
Flowing blood red.
The long day has come to an end and she swings open wide the door
Quick is she to don a nightgown and day dress shed,
Leaving a long scarlet trail on the floor
Flowing blood red.
When her mother sings her to sleep she catches a glint of gold
From the ornament on her bosom she’s reread,
‘A’ letter on her bosom burning bold
Flowing blood red.

1 comments:

Theophilus Christmas said...

The undeniable scarlet dread of our blood stained sins is an inescapable terror,--that is inescapable without the cleansing work of Christ—His atoning death. We must be cleansed in the living waters (Shepard of Hermas =). Our hands are dripping with this defiling/odious/staining sin, but, "though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow" (Isaiah 1:18). A glorious thought, an undeniable Truth, a thoughtful book, a life lesson of the confining/debilitating/deteriorating affects of sin, and a clever rhyme bringing to life a classic. (I am glad you finally decided to post this, and I invite and compel (an interesting thought: suggestion with force) you to continue to do so)