Shall a host of angels shed their tears
as all the sins wash away in the rain?
Will their broken voices sob in weeping
for the cold, wet bodies on the ground?
The storm soaked earth flows sodden
around houses, cleansed and forgotten.
Once homes, they stand empty now,
while their tin roofs dance with raindrops.
Water tumbles, pouring from the grey sky,
tears unstoppable, the rains of heaven.
© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart
Stubbed my toe,
And my cigarette.
Burnt my fingers,
Burnt my heart.
I can’t do this right now.
Her eyes drank in the sight of her favourite hue, that vivid primary that burst with energy, that crackled with verve and being, the essence of kisses, roses, luscious fruit dripping juice. It was her joy, her bliss, this primal red.
Red, Crimson, Scarlet
The colour of life and love
Ruby wine churning
She inhaled the scent of it, the vision of it, and the satin touch of it. She smiled, wanting more, staring as the beautiful red dripped off her hand as droplets of blood. She giggled and took another bite of the freshly plucked heart.
Raw claret falling
As stains and impulsive death
Blood sipped, ingested
© All Rights Reserved A. F. Stewart
Kintsugi Poets Society 