A war of Poppies- a collaboration

How to suck color out a rainbow palette? Is it possible for humans?

They always suck the red out of wounds and then blame the flesh for not being enough.

Beauty lies beneath wounds. But humans scrape wounds off shamelessly instead.

If the sky was painted black will it shield the wounded hearts?

Once I saw a poppy field. I didn’t see the sky’s reflection in it. Did sky shield itself from the wounded, red poppies?

I can bring all the green of rainbow to the field, will the grass still be greener on the other side?

People manipulate what’s beautiful for them. If green is brought down, they’ll again scrape it off.

I think poppies are the women, in middle of war among themselves, pushed to be and do better while their  roots are stuck in filthy mud of  “you can’t”.

Red gushes through the field right now. Is it blood? What if poppies sucked blood. What if all this beauty was swathed in blood?

The bleeding hands/people make  half of this world. They defile pride because they bleed.
I wish the world was colorblind but women.

Pride! Pride is anything but woman.

I’ll wear a scarf that’d wrench me if I ever try to favour red with blood. Both are different.

All I think of is women. I’d love to bring Gods, to ask them for shelter but there are no Gods and maps are deviod of safe.

My new graveyard is a poppy field. It bleeds so the sky keeps away from it. No beauty, no God. Hence, oppressed and hence my home.

No matter who rules whom, they sow poppies to see them bleed.

Skies look blue just to prove beauty can’t be red.

Samyak introduced me to dialogue poetry and our rants turned into, this really close to my heart poem.

Image source: Pinterest