My first poem for Thursday November 13 2025 SEEING RED. Jill Stockinger

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jill stockinger

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Nov 9, 2025, 3:16:06 PM11/9/25
to Rennaissance writing Group, Curt and Carolyn, pattis...@comcast.net, RSW Jerry Roth, Celia Mccauley, Kaolin Fire, Max Stockinger, Karen Arenson, Kim Knighton, Kathleen Kauffroath
Dear Compadres,

this is my first poem to discuss on Thursday, Nov. 13, 2025.
I am sending my poem,  SEEING RED. 

My poem was written after reading the SPLENDID poem, from The Black Maria, written by ARACELIS GIRMAY.  It is NOT written by Neil deGrasse Tyson!
In her poem, all the lines are divided in half. One half starts at the normal margin, and other half is about "two tabs in," UNDER the first half of the sentence.
It is about an awful experience by Neil deGrasse Tyson, who is Black, when he was 8 or 9 years old. (I have included the poem as an attachment.) It is about a true life experience that he had.

I tried to use that particular format, of a part of a line off to the side, under a first part,  but I was unable to do so. Instead, I broke sentences and ideas into THREE related parts. Not two!

AND I used a Prompt from a poetry class given by CALYX on writing poems concerning the reproductive rights of women.

The prompt was to take a KNOWN SYMBOL (I chose a red rose) and USE it in the poem, without TELLING the readers what it symbolizes in the poem.

So here is my effort!! Jill



Jill Stockinger

 

Seeing Red

 

A polite cough.

             I ignore it.

                          A knock.

Someone wants to come in.

             I open the door.

                          There’s a giant rose.

Fire engine red.

             Blocking the way.

                          I can't get out.

“Go away!”

             It spreads its arms. 

                          Lined with thorns.

Beseeching my help.

             I start dragging it

                          into my house.

It’s heavier than

             a block of granite.

                          I cut my hands.

It swallows my blood

             like it’s hungry.

                          I get it inside.

It embraces me.

             Suffocating me.

                          “What do you want?”

“You know!”

             I’m puzzled. Annoyed. 

                          “Tell me what you want!”

“You.”

             I tell it, “I don't want you.

                          Go away.”

It refuses.

             We fight. I’m trying hard

                          to push it out.







Neil deGrasse Tyson poem (the subject) from THE BLACK MARIA BY ARACELIS GiIRMAY.docx
Poem Jill CALYX Seeing Red (A polite cough. I ignore it.).docx
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