Posted in Poems, Uncategorized

Red. White. Blue.

Red, white, and blue,

the sirens shot through me.

At that scene,

I crouched, stunned,

humming ‘America the Beautiful.’

The alleyway next to me

teeming with bottles of amber

, men waving back and forth

against the grains of the crumbling brick walls,

spray paint and urine kissed.

I shivered,

the chill reaching out through my nervous system,

an explosion of cold like little fireworks.

The mother screams,

her cries splitting the sky

like gunfire.

A thick cloud hangs in the air

–gunpowder – sorrow – or smoke rings puffed

from the man leaning against the telephone pole,

oblivious to the plight of his brother.

He pulls up his hood, drawing the strings tight.

There seemed to be oceans between us all.

Blood staining the pavement.

The blue sadness blanketing it all

and the loud silence, that mist in the air;

We do not speak of this here:


his pale skin

his blank t-shirt

blank expression

the sterile void of the ambulance.


This poem, I worry , will be mistaken to mean something deeper than what it is meant to invoke. It is true that while it is about a scene of an ambulance pulling up to take a little boy away  it uses the colors red , white and blue in another way. It is meant to make one think about America in many ways from the humming of the song to the use of amber waves of grain twisted into this poem BUT this is not meant as some giant statement about the state of America but rather the sadness that is found both in our country but also in the human heart, in other words, wherever humans are , pain, sadly, often follows.But I would love to know your interpretation and thoughts on this poem of mine.Thank you for reading.

-Eva M.M

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”



I am a young and enthusiastic writer, fresh out of highschool and into college at IUSB. I babysit and work and live life to it's fullest. I write. I read. I do yoga. And plan to become. Yoga intructers as well. I grew up on a farm and can't,t wait to move back to the country in my tiny house I have already planned out. Sometimes I'm a little melodramatic but rarely. I'm a spiritual healer, a hopeless romantic, a book worm, and very nostalgic. Thanks for stopping by.

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