Red.
Red is a fading sunset on the horizon.
It’s a burst of flame;
A spray of the fire leaping towards us.
It’s the heat of the warm afternoon.
It’s the face of an angry teacher.
It can also be an embarrassed pupil.
It’s a flickering flame of a tiny candle.
It’s the spark able to spread the wildfire of love.
Red is the color of heat.
It’s full of passion.
It’s bold.
Red won’t tolerate injustice.
It’s hard and unfortunately stubborn.
Red will never give in.
Even when it needs to.
Red has the brawn of an ox,
The skill of a pride of lions,
And even the diligence of a colony of fire ants.
It does not back down or grow weary.
Red stands his ground firmly.
It’s charming and romantic.
Red is like a harvest of fresh raspberries:
Satisfyingly and deliciously juicy.
Red is optimistic.
Red is the color of a rising dawn that glides across the morning sky and through the misty white clouds.
It’s the hot July sun, beating down on your entire body, and filling you with warmth.
It’s the thorn that gets to prick your fingers when you choose to hold it.
But it’s also a precious rose, that will always smell sweeter and sweeter than before.
Red, by any other name, would still remain red.
Red is a fading sunset on the horizon.
It’s a burst of flame;
A spray of the fire leaping towards us.
It’s the heat of the warm afternoon.
It’s the face of an angry teacher.
It can also be an embarrassed pupil.
It’s a flickering flame of a tiny candle.
It’s the spark able to spread the wildfire of love.
Red is the color of heat.
It’s full of passion.
It’s bold.
Red won’t tolerate injustice.
It’s hard and unfortunately stubborn.
Red will never give in.
Even when it needs to.
Red has the brawn of an ox,
The skill of a pride of lions,
And even the diligence of a colony of fire ants.
It does not back down or grow weary.
Red stands his ground firmly.
It’s charming and romantic.
Red is like a harvest of fresh raspberries:
Satisfyingly and deliciously juicy.
Red is optimistic.
Red is the color of a rising dawn that glides across the morning sky and through the misty white clouds.
It’s the hot July sun, beating down on your entire body, and filling you with warmth.
It’s the thorn that gets to prick your fingers when you choose to hold it.
But it’s also a precious rose, that will always smell sweeter and sweeter than before.
Red, by any other name, would still remain red.
Poem by Sunny Summers
A very big welcome to my new followers, it is so lovely that you have decided to stop by and share my journey with me. I appreciate all your comments and love reading each and every one of them. You are all very kind, thank you!
Hope you are all having a good week so far and that some of you are enjoying the excitement that this year's Wimbledon is bringing, I know I certainly am when I have the time to sit down and watch that is! Just what I am off to do now as I recorded the Murray game, yes from yesterday, and hoping to finally watch this nerve-wracking final set.
Warm Wishes
Hannapat
xoxo
Beautiful roses! :) x
ReplyDeleteLove the photo of the posy in the vase, katie x
ReplyDeleteHi Hannapat what a lovely poem and the photos are just stunning. Hope you enjoyed your tennis
ReplyDeleteLots of love
Dorothy
:-)xxxxxxxxx
Absolutely beautiful rose and poem Hannapat - thank you for allowing us to share the beauty with you!
ReplyDeleteI do do hope that Murray wins!
Joy xo
I have been staying up late watching the tennis here in Australia - I've got huge bags under my eyes to prove it!
ReplyDeleteI love roses too, our last house was previously owned by a Rosarian - we inherited over two hundred rose bushes, each of them with a hand painted metal name. I can't tell you how much a miss our beautiful garden. Sigh. Sniff. (don't miss pruning them though!) At this time of year I would have bowls and bowls of gorgeous camellias plonked all over the house - there were loads of them too, all named as well. I have kept lots of the old metal signs I found buried when I was digging in the garden - I'll show you them on my blog one day x
I mean: I miss (blame that one on the tennis!)
ReplyDeleteFunny you should mention the Murray game ... I shall be putting my feet up, grabbing my knitting, and watching his semi final later!
ReplyDeleteThose really are the most gorgeous roses :)
Also holding thumbs for Andy! And I'll also be knitting away at my afghan. The rose is spectacular. I can actually smell its beauty. I love your blogs on the Nature in the Home series. Your photography is so good. You missed your vocation my dear. All that studying and what you really should have done was work for a mag as their design artist. Oh well, maybe if it was a job it would not be so much fun, right?
ReplyDeleteC'mon Andy!
ReplyDeleteHe deserves it so much!
Love the poem! Have a fab weekend in the sunshine xxxx
What beautiful words! I don't know that poet, thanks for sharing it. Really lovely photos too. You can't beat a red rose. I hope you're well and enjoying this gorgeous weather. x
ReplyDeleteWell!! You learn something new every day and I did not know you had a blog! Just read your comment about the quilt along and went to send an email and arrived here... I love what I have seen so far and look forward to catching up. Looking forward to sharing our quilt journey, its good to learn new skills and I very much want a cosy quilt on the bed this winter. Enjoy your week... and the sun x
ReplyDeleteYour your photos are really lovely. I love red roses and thank you for sharing the lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteM x