Red

[BelovedK]

It could be anything. Use that as a prompt to write a short (or long) essay or story. If red doesn't move you, use another color. Use all of your senses in the writing, make us really feel the specific shade you choose.

[candiland]

RED

All things are slowly turning.
The mosquitoes are out for last blood today.
One hovers near my ankle, ready to strike.
Another sits at my wrist
already slurping down
what will surely be his last meal.

All things are slowly turning.
A familiar melancholy madness seeps in
as the trees, they go red
looking stunning somehow as their end fast approaches.
My sole hits then crunches a piece of this death.
It does not hurt at all.

All things are slowly turning.
The children spin on the old tire swing
oblivious to all but their own peals of laughter,
faces lifted to drink up the remnants of the sun.
Their hair flies fast and covers their eyes.
They are rendered half blind,
yet they don't seem to mind.

All things are slowly turning.
I remember when my own hair was long,
and red.
Now it's cropped to reflect my own sense of self containment.
I remember being lit up,
glowing from the inside like the grinning jack o' lantern
that watches from the old front porch.

All things are slowly turning.
"Mom, why do the leaves change colors?"
as she twirls, arms outstretched,
then tumbles to the ground.
Instead of feeding her intellect - that damn intellect -
I merely muse "because that is as it should be"
and I really mean it now.

All things are slowly turning.
I am reminded of the time I saw myself
looking back at me.
Demanding that she cross the bridge to come home
and the child, arms crossed and feet planted,
"NO."
At that moment I was my child staring down
my own flame-haired mother.
Her name was Dawn.

All things are slowly turning.
My son emerging, limp and blue
as I lie in a crimson river
light and shadows dancing across his slick skin and
"Let one I love stay" was my prayer that day.
I drifted off, down my own bright tide
but their voices demanded that I come back and stay.

[BelovedK]

Wow candiland, you just sat down and wrote that so quickly...it was great, you really took me there...

[quaz]

Not much time. Haven't written in a while. Not sure what if any I like. Suggestions?


Candy Cane

Bright red ribbons wrap
round white winter crystal cane
fire and ice contrast

Candy Cane
Red mint ribbons wind
spiraling round white winter
leaving fire-ice taste

[BelovedK]

Not much time. Haven't written in a while. Not sure what if any I like. Suggestions?


Candy Cane

Bright red ribbons wrap
round white winter crystal cane
fire and ice contrast

Candy Cane
Red mint ribbons wind
spiraling round white winter
leaving fire-ice taste


I like the second one best, though like the last line of #2 better. Makes me want to pilfer one of my little ones candy canes (i love them)

Hi Quaz, haven't heard from you in a long while :)

[Salvia]

If only I could figure out what his shirt was trying to tell me. It is a red shirt and printed on it in big letter were the words: Choose Today. Beyond the basic Carpe Diem theme, I feel he is trying to tell me something. What am I to choose? Why today? If only he knew that what I would choose to do would get me fired and greatly surprise him that a librarian could be so brazen.


:shy I'm a used-to-be, wanna-be writer who has decided to dip her toe in your swimming pool. :o I don't really like the word "brazen". I frist used "bold" but didn't like that either. Any other suggestions?

[BelovedK]

What about "unfettered"? (I've always loved that word)

[Red]

:throb I can't resist this one!



Red

As a red-headed child, I was forbidden to wear red. My father always told me red was a bad color for a redhead, because it clashed with their hair. Over the years, I learned to HATE the color.

It is the color of anger, of murder and blood. It is the haze that settles around me when I am furious beyond words. It is the color of whores and sex without love. It is the color of freshly slapped flesh, of a babies diaper rash, of roses- the one flower I never liked.

The my older sister, who was also a redhead, hand made me a sweater. Red. Red, she said, because daddy never let her wear red, and she always wanted to. Red, because Dad would never tell me I couldn't wear something she had made me.

Still I was careful to wear it when he wasn't around. It was cozy, made with love, though I secretly wished it were green.

Red was my fathers name. It was what everyone called him, even his own mother. He was not a perfect person, a big, alcoholic man who smoked cigars constantly and drank pots of coffee so strong no one else would want any. When he yelled the whole neighborhood straightened up and behaved.

I couldn't name a child after him; his 'real' name was one none of us liked. But, I wanted to honor him.

I opened a small restaurant. I called it "Red's Cafe", after my dad.

But the patrons only saw that it was named Red's and that I was a redhead. Soon, they called ME 'Red'.


And after a time, I began to like it!

But when the business failed, I felt like I had dishonored my father. I had lost his namesake.

And then I got a computer. I needed a name. A name that fit me, that would give people a bit of who I am, without telling them too much. A name I'd recognise and that was quick and easy to spell, since I couldn't type.


"Red"

[my2girlsmama]

Red
This anger within me..seething rage, why can't things
go right?
What did I do?
I try and try..I'm tired of try
I want action, good, hearty, happy
positive I don't want this red internally
seeping, weeping, rushing, causing
I hold tight
and focus
and allow it to purse through the veins...
It will pass
and red will slow.......ease..........pulsate ever calmer.

[BelovedK]

I love to hear how different people view 'Red' BTW, Red... :lol