Poem: The Crimson River

Tipsy sharks. Crimson river. Pure spring. Children. Olive fatigues. That is what 2023 has been for some. I pray for sanity and love to return in 2024.

Poem: THE CRIMSON RIVER

Image by Sam from Pixabay

Sharks are tipsy today
Deep in the sea
Their nostrils flaring
The intoxicating smell
A faint stain of red
That just flowed in
the river gurgles crimson
a vomit of violence

Upstream -
dead bodies cut open
Children and women
The life ebbs away
As the crimson elixir flows
Coloring the waters
Vultures and wolves
Hesitate at the gore
Fireballs from the sky
Merciless and blind
Nowhere to hide

Further upstream-
The man in olive fatigues
Face painted black
Dead eyes straight
Cold like his heart
‘We shall avenge.’
Three words of terror
But many more out there
Words of vengeance
Rabid cacophony
The hated now hate

They rest for a while
Below dark leafless trees
The chirps are long gone
Red and dead leaves
Inert and lifeless barks
go with the flow
soaked in crimson

Further upstream and
near the source -
Fresh, clean spring
Sparkling in sunshine
Bubbly brilliance
Untainted and pure
Like all the children
Born just now
Filled with innocence
Till at some point
Downstream is dirty

A crystal clear stream
becomes a
crimson river
and -
the tipsy sharks await.

~Ashok Subramanian © 2023

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