Pomegranate red

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Is this the red that should have been
dispersing art on a painter’s canvas?
Is it the red that matadors withhold from charging bulls,
perhaps to spur the fire on a fare lady’s smile?

Is this the red that brightens skies,
turning green leaves to yellow to reach it,
as branches shaking in the wind
casting that celebrated evening red across the sky?

I think it may just be the red
of Venus’ bare nipples,
the red of blossomed vibrant hearts
that meet in flesh, god Eros.

Iakovos Garivaldis

2 thoughts on “Pomegranate red”

  1. Excellent, my dear poet!
    Αλλά να μιλήσω ελληνικά γιατι είναι η γλώσσα , που με αυτην αγαπω κι ονειρεύομαι….
    “κόκκινο ,τί είναι κόκκινο;
    Μια κηλίδα έρωτα
    στο λευκό του θανάτου!
    Τζένη Κ.

  2. I thank you dear Jenny,
    for your encouraging comment.

    Pomegranate red is real fake blood (just break it apart)
    or real color of fake blood
    that can bring feelings of despair
    when we fear its affecting loved ones.

    A perfect tool for poetry
    to mark and describe extremities.

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