The Crafty Green Poet has reintroduced me to a form that I'd long considered, but never attempted: the ghazal. And while this poem does not adhere strictly to the form, it did allow me to play with the word "red," which at the start of the poem refers to a biracial person or "half-caste."It's a strange thing, this blogging--this trying out of new things in public--merely setting the poems free the way that The Crafty Green Poet, Fragano, Rethabile, and Stephen do regularly. My friends, you have liberated me…
It burst from those lips that I'd adored, "You're just too red!"
The curse of being apart, neither black nor white, but red
followed me through the streets, staining the shadow
of those fires that flared behind my mother's garden: red
ginger towering over anthuriums with their bruised phalloi
straining against the bark of the live oak, stunned red
petals bending in the sunlight to the weight of shame,
their pliant skin absorbing yellow and blue to become red
like the way by resisting we become the thing we fear the most--
as I now accept this blessing freed from race. Call me Red.
Yes, this was cool. Very nice. Thanks for the breakdown of the meaning and the video. Fans like me get the Philp experience without paying the cost of fuel to get to Miami. :)
Thanks, Stephen. And with the price of gas skyrocketing ....video may be the way to go.
From where I am, if I had to pay, yikes!
Red is a good word here because it brings up quite a few associative ideas, like the so-called Red Indian. Red is an important colour in Africa (check out most African flags).
I love the poem, the petals bending in the sunlight to the weight of shame. Thanks for the read.
Oh this is good! Coincidentally i had been trying to write a colour ghazal and had really struggled with it, but your poem inspires me to try again!
Thank you for the original inspiration!
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