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Death Rose Poems | Death Poems About Rose

These Death Rose poems are examples of Death poems about Rose. These are the best examples of Death Rose poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Personification | |

Violin

.                                              She sleeps in her rose wood bed,
                                                  under a blanket of velvet red;
                                                   old and alone and forgotten,
                                           she dreams of the love she once had.
                                              Once again she recalls his caress
                                                      on the curve of her hips
                                                                and her breast
                                                         as he moved his bow
                                                      on the strings of her soul,
                                                             playing her sound
                                                    'til his passion was spent.
                                                                        ~~~
                                           They traveled the whole world over,
                                                      to every city and town;
                                              the maestro, his bow and violin,
                                                 bringing each curtain down.
                                                                        ~~~
                                               He died in a cry of sweet refrain,
                                               clutching her strings to his heart; 
                                            as he fell to the floor in a final encore,
                                                       tearing her world apart.
                                                                        ~~~ 
                                           So she sleeps in her rose wood bed,
                                                  under a blanket of velvet red;
                                                         her strings still filled 
                                                    with the song of her soul,
                                                        etched by the maestro
                                                               that loved her
                                                               so long ago!

                                                                    ~~~~~

                                                          Author:  Elaine George


Details | Quatrain | |

Where The White Rose Blooms

The single white rose captured the old gardener's attention,
He lovingly cared for it, like it was his own grand-daughter,
The roses were just like family and friends in his eyes,
He gave them bright sunshine, and plenty of fresh water.

He had always planted roses in reds, yellows, and pinks,
Yet, it was the one white rose that he favored most,
The old gardener admired it's innocence and elegance,
A quality that the other roses just could not boast.

This precious rose was pure white, like new fallen snow,
Which only a cold, late November day could bring,
It's delicate petals were soft to the finger's touch,
Similar to that of a feather, in an angel's wing.

The old gardener was perplexed and astonished,
Only this rose bloomed through spring, summer, and fall,
Each of the other roses had withered months ago,
The frost and cold weather did not affect it at all.

With a smile, the old gardener took one last look,
Unknowingly, death would soon come without warning,
After he had settled down for a nap in his chair,
He drew his last breath, later on that morning.

His funeral was held on the very next day,
Loving words were spoken, as he was laid to rest,
His grand-daughter approached, with tears in her eyes,
As she placed the single white rose upon his chest.

The cemetery was a quiet and peaceful place,
Where family and friends gathered to remember,
A gentle snow began to fall upon the casket lid,
Brightening the gloom on this final day of November.

The old gardener's soul departed from this earth,
Lead away by a choir of angels, on delicate wings,
Then on through the pearly gates of heaven's garden,
Where the white rose still blooms, in eternal springs.




November 25th, 2013


Details | Sonnet | |

The Rose and the Thorn

I shall nay know all the wonders - you hold
For all too soon the winds of winter blow
Scarlet petals withering in the snow
How cruel the breath that kills the velvet rose 

Tears - that canst’ bear the thought of letting go
Forever frozen in this empty soul
A broken heart forever turned to stone
A broken stem left now to stand alone

Alas! I find that life is bitter-sweet
As I stand holding only memories
Of a rose blooming in the summer breeze
Here beneath this old weeping willow tree

Once I held the sweetest rose - ever born
Now – in my grief – I hold the bitter thorn.

                            ~~~

                    Author:  Elaine George


Details | Rhyme | |

How A Blue Rose Came to Be

Once upon a time, many years ago,
There was a sweet and lovely -  red, red Irish rose,
That was plucked prematurely, from the garden vine;
A budding beauty, taken in her prime.

She was laid to rest, upon the death, of a lovers dream;
Upon a chest of ebony, where lie, his would-be  Queen; 
Lowered deep into the depths, of the church yard cemetery;
Her scarlet petals, wilting in the summer breeze.

Then the earth begin to fall, like autumn leaves;
Upon  her petals, and the chest of ebony,
From above her tomb, where stood the grieving groom
Weeping , weeping,  like a willow tree.

Then the sky begin  to disappear, amid that mournful cry,
As  tears - from above, fell from that lovers eyes,
And came to rest, like dew drops on that  Irish rose, 
As she disappeared beneath the earth, 
There in his grief below.                                      
     
In time, he laid a stone of ivory - upon her grave;
Etched deeply  - with the promise he had made:
To love his Irish Rose - forever and a day.

The years and all their seasons came and went,
And a million lonely tears were cried and spent,
Upon her grave where everyday he knelt and prayed,
And dreamed of her until his dying day.  

The epigram has long since faded on the ivory stone,   
That still stands alone  upon her grave,
Where from the million tears of love he gave,
A seemingly impossible - blue, blue rose has grown.

 
 Written:  June 18, 2010
Author:  Elaine George


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Red Roses Fade To Black

Red velvet petals, only I, seduce,
With hidden danger under the disguise,
My fingers feeling shyly, I reduce,
Thorns sharpen, ready, waiting the unwise.

Before me, bleeding poison, I assume,
This flower withered, shriveled the entire,
A dark extracted substance, the perfume,
No beauty, only sorrow, I admire.

Withdrawn I wept lamenting the depart,
A rosebud, crimson, youthful, I erased,
A lifeless flower, never I impart,
nor taken with affection, I embraced.







Written by Kelly Deschler  October 23rd, 2014





Details | Narrative | |

How a Blue Rose Came to be

Once upon a time, many years ago,
There was a sweet and lovely -  red, red Irish rose,
That was plucked prematurely, from the garden vine;
A budding beauty, taken in her prime.

She was laid to rest, upon the death, of a lovers dream;
Upon a chest of ebony, where lie, his would-be  Queen; 
Lowered deep into the depths, of the church yard cemetery;
Her scarlet petals, wilting in the summer breeze.

Then the earth begin to fall, like autumn leaves;
Upon  her petals, and the chest of ebony,
From above her tomb, where stood the grieving groom
Weeping , weeping,  like a willow tree.


Then the sky begin  to disappear, amid that mournful cry,
As  tears - from above, fell from that lovers eyes,
And came to rest, like dew drops on that  Irish rose, 
As she disappeared beneath the earth, there in his grief below 
                                          
                            	 ~~~~~
		
In time, he laid a stone of ivory - upon her grave;
Etched deeply  - with the promise he had made:
To love his Irish Rose - forever and a day.

                                  ~~~~~

The years and all their seasons came and went
And a million lonely tears were cried and spent
Upon her grave where everyday he kneeled and prayed
And dreamed of her until his dying day.  


		~~~~

The epigram has long since faded on the ivory stone   
That still stands alone   upon her grave
Where from the million tears of love he gave
A seemingly impossible - blue, blue rose has grown.

 
 Written:  June 18, 2010

Note:  To late for the contest,
but I thought I would post it anyway. 










Details | Narrative | |

The Rose

Once bloomed a rose so young and fair
With dark brown eyes and long black hair

Beside her be a tall dark tree
Whose branches stretch to smother thee

Too close beside the shadowy bark
That soon begins to leave its mark

She cries for help, but none shall hear
Her thorns too sharp, who’d dare go near?

To save this rose, who’d risk their life?
With naught to gain but pain and strife

Alone, afraid, she lays to rest
Her heart beats low inside her chest

And with the hour growing near
She sheds her final grieving tear

And so the rose soon falls asunder
Her final day, eternal slumber

She lies beside the old dark tree
The only one who mourns for thee


Details | Verse | |

Holding a wilting red rose

~~

I carried it on my lap all the way to you,
    The bus ride was so long, so long, Mom;
Lost in old memories of you and me, together, 
              I just looked out the window all the way.

                        Holding a wilting red rose ~

The gate of the cemetery creaked as usual,
     The path filled with many crumbling leaves;
Cool wind took my long raven hair blowing it back,
              I felt my tears falling as I neared your tomb.

                         Holding a wilting red rose ~

I stood for a long time with my eyes closed,
     The words carved in stone and in my heart;
Feeling the pride of a daughter for a wonderful Mom,
                I fell to my knees weeping for what is lost.

                           Holding a wilting red rose ~

Then at last I rose and dried the forever tears,
    I touched the words carved  on your cold tomb;
And retraced my steps down the path, closing the gate,
                I boarded the bus and was soon lost in thought.

                             Holding a wilting red rose ~

                                            . . . . . still


________________________________
May 11, 2014

Verse




                             


Details | Free verse | |

The Salted Leaf

Crystal sapphirine salted leaf,
The forlorn friend of aqua rose.
Memories of ages, only the leaf knows.
Bright blue tears of eternal grief.
The wedding bands confirm our love.
Passion, ardent affection for life.
I and Lenore forever my wife,
Beautiful as a pure white dove.
The eye of the rose reflects all,
You see the past in a single glance.
The aqua rose: Lenore, did me enhance.
Away she flew, to kingdom hall.
Why? Did she die; I do not know.
Answers in the blue crystal salt,
Sapphirine leaf will sorrow halt.
I eat the leaf for status quo,
My heartbeat quickens, then a smile.
Lenore, my wife doth call me hither.
Aqua rose begins to wither.
The saga must continue.

HGarvey Daniel Esquire


Details | Free verse | |

Fields of the Black Rose

Flowing fields of black 
Roses the hue of night 
Dark meadow take me home 
Relieve me of my fright 
And take me back. 
Blackened fields of ashy rose 
Take me to my home 
Where I'll never see the sun again 
Where I'll never hate 
And never bend 
Where we only see in shades of gray 
Where summer sun has shone its last 
And November wind is here to stay. 
Where I can go forget my past 
And never have to pay 
For the things I've done. 
Blackened fields of ashy rose 
Take me to your home 
Where we all see in shades of gray 
And I can rest in the coldly blowing wind. 
Forget my face forget my name 
Forget my form forget my sin 
Let me stay and waste away 
Please won't you take me in?


Details | Rhyme | |

Tender of Roses

Beloved, lovely roses: gift of God and lover’s flower,
Spread your colored petals and cradle tender showers.
While admiring the blossoms with their beauty to behold,
Ought we not to know the Tender of such lovely garden groves?

For He lovingly and thoughtfully wields His pruning shears
To cut away the stems of old for fuller future years.
He cultivates and feeds them. He attends them as a Father
Looking daily to their needs; so faithfully He waters.

From the dawn of morning dew until the setting sun arrays
Caring always for His own until that great appointed day…
When the Gardener comes to claim each one the earth held as its own.
He gently picks it at its peak and for His pleasure takes it home.

As God did one glorious morning, when the Perfect Rose had bloomed.
He rolled away the stone and met with Mary at the tomb.
There the sweetest Rose of Sharon rose that we die not alone.
But be gathered for a garden grove, surrounding heavens throne.


Details | Romanticism | |

A Flower's Funeral

A sweet flower's funeral
displayed in the cold months
of snowy weather and bone chilling shivers.
A sweet flower burned away, dried up;
buried six feet under.

Oh, my sweet flower,
how you once bloomed with no remorse,
like a madman blooming with beauty
and a glorious halo over your head
shinned with such power and blinding glory.

Oh my sweet flower how you have gone now,
resting in peace in the land of paradise.
Oh, my heart it is weak when I see your face,
of once beautiful smiles and warm embraces.
I can hear your crying out to be free.

Snowing and bone chilling cold ripes at my soul
and feelings of sorrow rage through my blood,
boiling my hatred to the world, for losing your
sweet and ever glorious beauty.

What I would give away, if I could be with you
one last night, one last night together
to hold you in my arms, to smell your sweet perfume
that brings back sweet memories of you and I.
What I would do to be with you,
such romance travels through my heart in the highways
of my veins in my body, love is all throughout me,
and my heart breaks when pictures of you start to collect dust.

My love for you, my sweet flower,
is still ingering through the air,
as I travel and look upon a tombstone
which shows your beautiful name.

Come to me my dear flower,
when spring comes,
come to me my dear, sweet flower.
And bloom once again,
twice as large as last year,
and ten times more beautiful then last year.
Come to me in the first months of spring
in my dreams, so I could sit and talk with you.
I miss you already,
and my heart crys,
my eyes flood with tears of sorrow.
I miss our love we shared.
Long walks,
cosy talks,
warm cuddling embraces
and beautiful displayed in a picture frame.
Now I hear the tapping of raindrops on my window pane.
That is all that keeps me company,
that and the rose you gave to me
and a picture of you and me.
Love is endless, even when blue eyed Death comes to visit
and play a game of chess with us,
we all play our game, my love.
I shall go tonight
in my sleepy slumber
and dream of you in the times of our height in our love for each other.
My lost love, you are gone, resting in paradise,
but never forgotten my sweet flower.

-10/6/2013-


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Twist in Time

As I stand here in front of my closet , starring in to the space...
I wonder which black dress to choose, and how I am going to face..
All the guests that will be there , at your final resting place...
I look in the mirror and what do I see ?
But cuts and scratches all over me...
Although I don’t feel any physical pain...
Oh, what’s that I hear ?..could it be rain ?
I miss you already...what went wrong ?..
We were driving along just listening to our favorite song...
I remember the curve on that old mountain road...
And then heard the train crash... and then explode...
Time to go called out my Mother...
It was a cold November morning, and very heavy rain...
And I swear I heard the whistle of a train...
As I looked around I could see...
So many friends and family...
Standing in the crowd was Aunt Sarah and Uncle Fred...
OMG ! I thought they were dead...
And there’s dear old Michael...
I had heard he crashed his motorcycle...
All of a sudden I saw YOU stand...
With a bright red rose, you held in your hand...
What are you doing I wanted to shout...
But then I realized what you were about...
You dropped the rose upon MY grave...
It was then I realized You were the one that was saved...


Details | Rhyme | |

Rose Parade

. The flames 
. . inside 
. . . cold blue
. . you made,
. Watch a wilting 
. . rose parade
. . . Drowning roses 
. . losing color,
. Beauty, all, 
. . will kill another,
. . . Killed by 
. . crashing blue 
. cascade

. . Burning hatred; 
. . . frozen blue
. . Searching for a 
. golden hue
. . Where's the 
. . . sunlight 
. . casting light
. On rose parades, 
. . clear cascades,
. . . and all the life 
. . we thought
. we knew?


Details | Free verse | |

A Yellow Rose

A young fallen dishearten

father slowly plucked the

yellow rose from off

the bush to take to

his young son's grave,

to morn each day

for this young child

that was taken from

him so early, is more

than this man can take

only thing that keeps

him going is someday

they will meet again

up there in glory land,

until then he will place

a yellow rose on

this lonely grave

each day, until

the roses are all

gone.

Written 6-30-11


Details | Imagism | |

LET IT RAIN

It's raining today - dreary it may be
The imagery of the raindrops in my view
Dripping !  In my brain I visualize
The dark clouds surrounding me
Thus I see - will there be sunlight
I look, I ponder! I watch and I surmise
the sun may peak in these predominant skies
Mesmerized - sun rays gleam in my eyes
Those beautiful hues - and yet the spectrum
The iris - that beautiful rainbow
It feeds my soul - I look at beauty
And thus blooms the flower - I know
It rained today and thus I say
The gardens grew - if you only knew
I woke - I had beautiful thoughts
Raindrops danced on my life this day
And yes! I saw a bud flourish petals
It's spring - and the rain doth bring
With a little help from the sun , my flower
Blooming in my head I visualize
Look what I saw when I looked at the skies
Imagery in my head, I thought
Imagine it  - and the bird it may sing
Music to my ears - I listen - I see
That spring - it's really blessing me
Enlightened I  saw the dead rose then grow
And I sit, I still ponder , it's roots I know
And the rose once posed- still life - of art
Prominent are the skies to make you wonder 
                                    The rain might start!!!!!
                                        Again & again
Beauteous Be Poesy is my book of poetry available on googles, amazon. com and Barnes & Noble published by Trafford Publishing. wrtten by Miss Stacey Law 


Details | Rhyme | |

Death by Beauty

A smile moves across her lips
She gazes at her crime
A scar across her flesh and soul
To haunt her for all time
She’ll waste away for all she cares
Never stops to use her brain
Doesn’t care about the ones who are close
All she cares about is pain

She wants to be what the others expect of her
Doesn’t care about the self-respect for her
A rose can’t be a forget-me-not
Can’t she see what all she has got
Already?

Never to go back again
She feels the world is at an end
She will never show her grief
Although she’ll cry in empty streetS

She’d sooner live like a desolate mole
Living in fear in an empty hole
Screaming silent wails alone
Content to live in her mental home

A final tear falls from her eye
It hits the ground, it’s followed by
A beautiful body, mutated by hate
A kind word could have stopped it, but it is too late
One two many bricks in the wall in her mind
Molding her demise because her heart was blind
This self conscious being could never have won
For she was destroyed by the beautiful ones

She wouldn’t fight back, wouldn’t respect herself
In the end, she managed only to wreck herself
A rose can’t be a forget-me-not
Little did she know, she had all she had sought
Already


Details | Alliteration | |

Wilted Rose

Wasted wonders of a wilted rose,

By blackened bliss it barely blows,

Glimmering of grace it gave as it grows,

Latent love now lonely, laying in lows,

Oh the wilted wonders of a weeping rose.

 

-7-04-2014
For contest:
Allliteration


Details | Blank verse | |

The Sweet smell of a dead rose

A rose that is at full bloom
and the color is pure and the pettles are calm
and dance along with the blowing of the wind
they have a smell, that is divine,
but doesn't bring back no special memory.

Now a dead rose,
that has a smell
that has no definition
that has no pain
it is just there
and it doesn't cry
and it doesn't sigh
it just sits there,
burning away when the sun hits it,
without remorse
without blinding courage.

The dead rose just sits there,
and the smell is so sweet
it brings back memories
that make you cry
and sigh
and sometimes,
laugh
and
smile a little.

Sometimes the dead things
are more beautiful
than the living,

but that is just my opinion,

what do you think?


Details | Heroic Couplets | |

A true rose of Jericho

 I come whence I go the Lord alone knows 								            like this wheel in the sky this a true rose 									              without recognition rolling along  												done in the green Him alone life belongs 											in the dry what will be done prophesied 											weeping for love His children despised           									           marred  until  latter rain received         											 with one drop again we must first believe      										new life resurrection no longer weeds                      									with a certain dwelling place which is free                                                                                        		              these three agree so are we in this earth 										 drinking all we can until the new birth                                                                                        -  by john Beam based on Anastatica  The rose of Jericho. A resurrection plant is any plant with the habit of reviving after seeming to be dead or of seeming to revive when being in fact dead.


Details | Imagism | |

DARK SKIES

The wind crept up - the skies ever so dark
Black, slick, clouds and calamity enters thy soul
Dreary! It chatters and limbs they fly
No sun upon thy face - beaming with hue
Those clouds they swarm in darkness
Rain - it pours - flooding the earth
Bewildered I look up at this blustering sky
The trees are dead, It's spring - yes death
Roses in the ground with the trickling raindrops
The April showers - You haven't a clue
True grit! The soil now nurtured
The roots - feeding on this phenomena
And yet when the sun shines soon
Day after day - trees will come to life
And roses in bloom- life after winter death
In awe I see this beautiful imagery
In my brain, as I see the pouring rain
My mind - I visualize - the beauty
Thus, why does it expose calamity?
Beauteous be the wonder in my eyes
And how I love those dark dreary skies
A rosebud in my teeth - I see
Is extraordinary and so is the tree
Let there be rain as it nurtures the soil
And with the chatter of the wind, let there be turmoil 
Again in my brain, I can truly love this day
I see life in the rain that is pouring today.


Details | I do not know? | |

Dusty Memories

amidst my walls
a discolored rose
a wedding photo
a collection of memories
 
a discolored rose
a moment of mourning
as fragile as life
 
a wedding photo
of lovers once parted
united in the beyond
 
a collection of memories
coalesce together
a collage of juncture
 
 
 
 i found this form online and wanted to experiment with it...
 
Trimeric
Trimeric \tri-(meh)-rik\ n: a four stanza poem in which the first stanza has four lines and 
the last three stanzas have three lines each, with the first line of each repeating the 
respective line of the first stanza.  The sequence of lines, then, is abcd, b – -, c – -, d – -.


Details | Personification | |

My Unique Line - RD

"Petal nor thorn could save this rose."


From "Flowers...Beautiful Flowers"  
This line personifies the loss of life and the harvest of flowers  (roses) for a funeral.  Just as loved ones are lost each day in the prime of life (any time really), the rose is taken in the height of beauty and placed atop the grave.  This is in spite of the thorns which protect it.  We possess the attributes of the rose as well.  Yet, still we pass, regardless of benevolence or wickedness.


Details | Free verse | |

In My Community

Our Ancestors fought to the death,
Just so we can live a brighter day,
So before you light up that blunt of meth,
Think about what you’re giving away,
It was a glad day in history when Obama rose to victory,
The first black president was all we knew,
Dark skin is in!
Haven’t you heard?
That even in our community, 
You can get burned,
It’s a sad day when people would rather stay home and “Crank That Amber Cole”,
Than get up and run to a poll,
In our community,
Rockin’ Luis V is better than having a college degree,
And teen pregnancy is not only a trend,
But the single motherhood that follows should end,
Young girls learn of a wonderful prince to take them away,
Nothing should change thought their mothers prince didn’t stay,
And as the tears fade away,
She grows stronger every day,
In our community,
Fighting is no longer a word,
You argue with someone and shots are heard,
Girls showing places the sun don’t show,
So how do they expect the community to grow?
Where love is a figment of imagination,
Making a young child question her creation,
Young mothers would rather buy the iPhone 5,
Then satisfy her baby’s cries,
While her new man’s eye,
Wander up another girl’s thighs,
In our community,
Where #team dark skin vs #team light skin,
Makes others not love the skin they’re in,
Love, lust, hate, and trust,
Giving a rose on Valentine’s Day is no longer a must, 
Where bad is good and good is bad,
Who would think to see their grandmother sad?
Her hurt and pain,
Shows how our community has lost everything her parents fought to gain.


Details | Sonnet | |

Hope Of Renewal

As the last rose petal falls swiftly down
The last of the great roses of summer
What a great summer that was lived_you known
Rose had much character an affirmer

Fall approaches with sure desolation
Only bare branches with prickly thorns left
Mocking Bird nest with nesting cessation
Protected by the Rose as in a  cleft

Used up_bare waiting for winter's cold breath
Not knowing what this winter chill will bring
As the petals flood onto the ground_death
Hope awaits but winter comes with its sting

Will the sap rise again coursing through vine
Revitalization __ one  bud sure sign


Details | Free verse | |

A Rose Fell

A rose fell to

the ground,

he slowly picked

it up and took it

home to his

dying little girl,

as she took the

rose from him,

she told him this

oh daddy, just before

you came home I asked

Jesus if I could smell

a rose just one more

time before I died,

now my prayer has

been granted to me

and now I can go home

with Him this very

night.  

wrote 4-9-11


Details | Narrative | |

Death Of A Rose

Death of a Rose
By Nate Spears
Published 2013 in “Death OF A Rose” By Nate Spears
 
The onion blooms this summer with an essence of pleasure
The winter’s rose brings the smell of death
As X marks the spot
I ask why?
The letters reveal everything in a perfect storm
As my fortune grew wheels I became bankrupt 
My pockets flat-lined into dust
 My days became a Knights reality
My short comings were the guiding in my life’s fatalities
My burdens became the struggles of my light
Each and every day 
I deal with this in this life
My soul is sun burned
My life has washed ashore
Times two; my son’s bring me rays of light
Allowing me to see everything with excellent vision
In all four corners of this ring surrounding my fingers tip
Victory stands bold in the middle 
Failure has lost to a simple slip
So who’s the real champion now?

Tears and sweat are only separated 
By the point in which they’re released
Beauty lies deeply 
Within the heart of the beast
One moment for the momentum 
That destroys the cells of venom
Black and cancerous, 
It sickens our society as we watch this rose die
The funeral we attend today stems from this
This is the Death
Of A Rose.


Details | Couplet | |

THOSE ROSE PETALS

                                                        Those rose petals
                      "My pen drips of sorrow and on this paper, I write each tear"

                                        . He was my treasure,my pot of gold.
                                  When he passed and it made my blood run cold.

                                  They laid him to rest so we put him in the ground. 
                              The rose petals in my hands I through them all around.

                                    My heart was broken when they said he died.
                         His rose petal covered casket is why my eyes will never be dried.
                                                                    Teresa Skyles     13-Aug-11
Entered in Constance La France~A Rambling Poet~"Just write"contest


Details | Rhyme | |

A rare black rose

A rare black rose has fallen
It can never again be risen
It grew amongst rocks and was never watered
Through it all it never whithered
It withstood all the harsh weather and storms
It was pleasing to look at but still had thorns
Animals passed by and trampled it at night
Still in the morning it rose like the sun
At times the wind shook it but it asked for a sign
A sign to show it will blossom for years to come
It faced a lot of deceit  
Now it has bowed its head in defeat
Its petals have been blown in all directions
It stood all alone and no one was there to protect it
Animals do not stop to mourn at its fate
Butterflies have moved on to find another lively and fresh
If only l was there to nurture and build a fence around it
If only l opened my arms wide and protected it
l cry for the rare black rose
Let its pollen be dispersed by the wind
Let it rest from this weary world



 ...................This goes out to all the prostitutes who have lost their lives trying to put food 
on the table for their families. Judged harshly by the world treated carelessly and overlooked


Details | Dramatic monologue | |

The Murder Of One Lead To Another

The Murder Of One Lead To Another


My death caused yours. I left without a fight like I had all those times before. Murder by my own self-indulgence. Looking how I had left you to your own devices, if I would had known that would be the cause of your death would I have been less self centered? Can you hear me singing to you as you slit your wrist and separate soul and body? Slowly slipping away as I sing the song of the 7 veils. I yearned for you, as you loved for me could we be the most perfect couple to die for selfish wish. What fools we are leaving this world just for a death we know nothing of. 
Stop! Return! Don’t leave me just yet! Are the words I hear as I return to living breathing state, I was returned back to this world? For you I could live on, for you I could die by your side, for you I would make you live forever with me. I was murder, you slit your wrist but in the moment of leaving this world we both was called back by the body we left behind. We came back hand and hand together to stay side by side. I was murder you slit your wrist, but in that last moment I came back for you and you came back for me. Did you see it our nearly over soul ready to be devoured and consumed by our greed? 
I was murder, as you slit your wrist. We tried to destroy our suffering and we nearly destroyed our bond. My death led to your death but in our final moment we were called back to this unforgivable world. Murder by self-indulgence, suicide of a broken heart, which was our ways out of this world. Thank you for calling me back.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

-Needs a title. I will probably think of one later on.-

There is a single rose

kept high in the vase of her memories

she eyes thee rose with despair and sorrow

circles around and walks away.


The rose withers and petals fall

she comes back but has the same thought.

Picks up the withering rose, she starts to dance

circles around and around with the rose balanced in her palm.

-she stops-

she starts to cry and she sees streaks of blood fall from her palm

the thorns dig deep

her tears reach her collar

darkness falls, then drags her deep in it's depths.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Bourgeois and the Spinning Wheel

In a room filled with a solitary red hue
The bourgeois spins a wheel
With no destination, nor need
She will spin until her brittle Hands bleed
Just to satisfy her ennui and artifice
But she does not see - the rien I see
The monster approaching her empty dreams

Spinning still - she does not know
The insomniac rose will begin to grow
The thorn of clandestine and ebony
Ostracized for he began to realize
What lies in nonsense is decadence
Which sparks interest
Who's lover is a dadaist
But his story is over now
As Seth lead the way
A poet dies in dismay

The thorn as she spun penetrated
A distraction and a lack of action
She knew the temptation for she so loved the sensation
Of crass, rebellious - ways 
The thought laid it's seed
In her Gaulish mind it breeds
She has no other need and no regrets
So she proceeds and the smile lets
With full intention and desire
Caring none of her fate that will transpire 
She presses her finger on the thorn 
So now she bleeds knowingly
she did not recede


Details | Rhyme | |

Roses for Elise

You've always wanted ivory petals, to cover a canopy bed,
But wires, electrodes and IV's cover you instead.
You used to sing so sweetly such random little things,
The only one I recall, “A bell chimes, as an angel earns her wings"


 I miss your tinkling laughter that filled this empty hall,
Now bleakness infiltrates, dreading that urgent call.
Chemo deviated rampid along your rail thin arms,
The room overwhelmed with bleeps and unlit alarms.


Caressing a pale cheek, I stroke a shiny head,
you cried so hard when the golden curls were shed.
You use to chase your rainbows and butterfly-kissed dreams,
Within imprisoned coma I can almost hear your screams.


You once asked me, "Mommy, why do I have to hurt?"
I tried to gentle emotions so words wouldn't come out curt.
"The cancer Elise, brings down angels just a bit closer to you,
Breaching darkness, so a little heaven shines through"


The funeral was very lovely, filled with fragrant flowers
I accepted condolences for what seemed like many hours. 
But now the mourners left me, I'm finally all alone,
The sounds of silence so sharp it cuts to the very bone.


The distant bells of Saint Peter melodious as it rings,
I know my little angel, has finally earned her wings.
On the polished headstone, are words I especially chose,
And on your little grave I bestow an ivory rose.


Details | Bio | |

a rose grown on concrete

A rose grown on concrete

Behind these steel grill bars,
Admiring the heaven stars.
I remain that black rose,
Growing on concrete there I pose.
With petals shattered,
And my thirsty roots scattered.

With my stem rotting in strain,
12 months have gone there’s no rain.
 I absorb the slightest rays of light,
To keep me strong through the night.
With only hope tomorrow I’m alive,
But faith keeps me strong I will survive.

But if I should die,
Wipe your eyes don’t you “crie.”
Just bury me smiling,
As that black rose charming.
But whilst alive it will rain,
Out of these bars were there’s no pain.


Inspired by a moment of hurt and anger in prison (2008)


Details | Lyric | |

Missing

Walking around the graveyard
Untaggling his hands from the pocket in his jacket
its clear in his head that he's screaming for something
that something is missing within his heart

Taking off his hat as he sits it on her grave
Pulling out a piece of paper
The death certificate that her name was signed on
a tear falling from his cheek 
he reaches down to pick up the flower he laid there before

crumples at his touch
sitting down the piece of paper
he asked her
how can i love?
when the one i want is not here?

tears fall from his eyes unto the paper 
he lights a candle
sits it by her tombstone

He lays down beside her
listening to the wind
hoping to hear her voice
something he longed for
something that he was missing

he falls asleep
holding the stem of the rose that crumpled before
The pedals fly away with the wind
and the flame of the candle burns out
the rain starts to fall

He lays with his eyes closed
He goes back in time
The rose pedals fall back unto the stem
The paper flies back into his pocket

He walks back into town
Back into the house he was at before
Back at her funeral
to the hospital they were at
When they found out she had cancer
To the church where they got married
To the time when he asked her to marry him
Finally to the place where they met

There story replays again in his mind
he lays cold on the ground beside her
The wind dies down
and the candle starts burning again


Details | Rhyme | |

The Rose

In a meadow encompassed by death
a solitary rose blooms
the only one left
turned silver by the moon

After the sun begins to rise
the morning glistening with dew
the ruby petals break their ties
its departure darkening the worldly view


Details | I do not know? | |

Roses in the sand

A place of long ago
Was torn by one man
Who left behind a letter
"I leave roses in the sand"

One girl went missing
Blood and nothing more
Leading to a single rose
Right next to the shore

The townspeople frightened
Anyone could be next
Locked behind their doors
They feared their town was hexed

Things remained normal
Until a drury night
When a young woman was murdered
And left in plain sight

A single knife wound
By the killers' hand
With a note attached
One more rose in the sand

Together people mourned
As they asked for a reason
This became known as
The death of a season

Nobody after dark
Was allowed to roam the street
Every morning in the church
The whole town would meet

A group was formed
To find this elusive man
Who killed these young women
And left roses in the sand

No luck as they searched
No clues left behind
No one with answers
But still on everybodys' mind

A few weeks past
The people felt some peace
Not in terror anymore
For the notes had deceased

But as the town stood tall 
One person would soon fall
And through the depths 
the killer would finally crawl

A note found on a merchants' door
Read "It's time  for one more"
"Watch closely for my demand
Or one more rose in the sand"

Scared by the threat 
He tried to do his best
So nothing more would happen
By the mans' request

When out of the blue
Came the first clue
A white piece of cloth
Noticed by a few

Initialed were two letters
Stitched with E and S
They had to find a match
No longer would they guess

When looking at the list of people 
In the town
Only one name matched
They could bring this person down

For it was no man
It was a young female
Named Elizabeth Smith
Who lived near the dell

Soon taken to jail
She was then asked why
Blank with no emotions
She never did reply

But found in her home
Were three notes that said
"Roses are like blood
The two of them are red"
"I am calling for a ransom
or three more will be dead"
"I am asking for the sum of 
of just ten grand
If you do not pay three more roses in the sand"


Details | Bio | |

a rose grown on concrete

A rose grown on concrete

Behind these steel grill bars,
Admiring the heaven stars.
I remain that black rose,
Growing on concrete there I pose.
With petals shattered,
And my thirsty roots scattered.

With my stem rotting in strain,
12 months have gone there’s no rain.
 I absorb the slightest rays of light,
To keep me strong through the night.
With only hope tomorrow I’m alive,
But faith keeps me strong I will survive.

But if I should die,
Wipe your eyes don’t you “crie.”
Just bury me smiling,
As that black rose charming.
But whilst alive it will rain,
Out of these bars were there’s no pain.


Inspired by a moment of hurt and anger in prison (2008)


Details | Rhyme | |

bloody red roses part 2

     She lies in a pile of bloody red roses

She left a note to her folks  saying

" I cant go on im sorry"

      It didnt say why

But still we cry

      We are all very sad

some of us are mad

       none of us are glad

She'll b greatly missed

        To me she was like a sis

But when will the rumors stop

        Noone knows the truth not even the cops

My pain is great 

       I wish we hadnt been late

But when we got there 

        there she lay 

on her already made bed of

Bloody red roses


Details | Narrative | |

How A Blue Rose Came To Be

"I have dipped my pen in the sublime, it is my gift to you . . ."

                                                           

Once upon a time, many years ago,
There was a sweet and lovely -  red, red Irish rose,
That was plucked prematurely, from the garden vine;
A budding beauty, taken in her prime.

She was laid to rest, upon the death, of a lovers dream;
Upon a chest of ebony, where lie, his would-be  Queen; 
Lowered deep into the depths, of the church yard cemetery;
Her scarlet petals, wilting in the summer breeze.

Then the earth begin to fall, like autumn leaves;
Upon  her petals, and the chest of ebony,
From above her tomb, where stood the grieving groom
Weeping , weeping,  like a willow tree.

Then the sky begin  to disappear, amid that mournful cry,
As  tears - from above, fell from that lovers eyes,
And came to rest, like dew drops on that  Irish rose, 
As she disappeared beneath the earth, there in his grief below                                      
     
In time, he laid a stone of ivory - upon her grave;
Etched deeply  - with the promise he had made:
To love his Irish Rose - forever and a day.

The years and all their seasons came and went
And a million lonely tears were cried and spent
Upon her grave where everyday he knelt and prayed
And dreamed of her until his dying day.  

The epigram has long since faded on the ivory stone   
That still stands alone today, upon her grave
Where from the million tears of love he gave
A seemingly impossible - blue, blue rose has grown.

                                  ~~~~~


Author:  Elaine George
For the contest: Writing In The Sublime ~
Awarded: First Place


Details | Rhyme | |

Pruning Roses

In the back garden near the trellis wall,
Roses bloom from spring to fall.
Except for one black rose in the sea of red,
Ebony seemed to seed the dread.

Thorns seemed sharper then the rest,
Birds,squirrels and bunnies avoided the mess.
Downing thick gloves with a determination,
I strut with confidence to preform the alteration.
 
I hummed as I trimmed the spiny vines back,
But in the morning there stood three roses black.
Puzzled, I wasn't quite sure,
If pruning them was the cure.

But, shaking a stubborn head,
Decided again to prune instead.
By next morning though I stared with disbelief,
Black roses covered the wall, "Good Grief"!

and as I pondered this confounded mystery,
I so wanted this dilemma to be history,
As I stared from the back door, a brave little bunny,
Frolicked too near so cute and quite funny.

When suddenly, vines snatch its prize,
As I watched it disappear before my eyes.
I heard one little yelp then it was silence,
Shock so profound to see such violence.

Trying not to make any sudden move,
Dropping the shears, the roses wouldn't approve
Fear however isn't so easy to squelch,
As vines gave a shutter and shared a loud belch.


Details | Personification | |

Tombstones

Shifting my weight onto the old bridge.
Listening to it's ragged cries of protest.
The mist rising from it's slumber, casts an ominous attitude.
As I walk by, the trees extend their bony fingers.
They snatch at my hair as I pass them by.
I near my destination.
A tribe of tombstones stand before me.
I soon find the one I have searched for.
Kneeling down, I place a rose by the lonely head stone.
I turn my back and walk away.
The headstone and rose drifts into the night.
Swallowed by the starving darkness.




                 (For Dorothy, Wanda, and Elwood)


Details | Blank verse | |

The Red, Red Rose

A drop of red in a field of white,
A single red, red rose standing above the snow.
Why it didn't freeze, no one knows,
A patch of hope in the barren land.
A small glimmer of light. 
A single red, red rose.

The last piece of humanity left, 
The last of life the Earth will see.
A single red, red rose above the snow,
The very last of nature's beauty,
Why it didn't freeze, no one knows.
A single red, red rose.

As time goes on, the rose will die,
The light will fade,
The hope will be no more
The Earth will come to pass away,
As the petals, from the rose, are torn,
But for now the single red, red rose,
Stands above the frozen snow.

Unless, the hope can be restored,
With love and care, the rose will grow.
It will shimmer like a light,
And it will spread it's seed,
Spread it's hope.
It will stand above the snow,
And finally, why it didn't freeze,
People will know.

The cold and barren wasteland,
That is covered with snow,
Will become green again, 
And it all started with, 
The single red, red rose
That stood above the snow.


Details | Free verse | |

roses and narcissus and the sky and the ocean

the sky's lips are the softest when the red rose's and narcissus' petals bloom
but when the heart beats it only steps closer to finishing
so why is the rose red when its passion only leaves it to wilt?
the same reason the yellow narcissus looks down
suppose it knows what the future holds
 
the rose simply tries to ignore that to come
but having passion for now is not its destiny
in the end, the rose will turn dark and unkind
while the narcissus will be too burdened
he will not threaten life with his thorns
 
the sky and the ocean mock their colors
they are the ones who are eternal
not the red rose or the anxious, yellow narcissus
and though their wealth of life is not as great
the rose looks to the sky, and narcissus to the ocean
 
the sky watches the rose’s passion wilt to misery
and the narcissus droop lower and miss his reflection
the sky kisses with radiant lips upon their petals
but fails to save them from their fate
then he returns his face upon the ocean
 
only the sky wishes his color upon the flowers
the ocean’s eyes are oblivious to their colors
she has no idea that her shores are built by their petals
so when the sky mourns upon the ocean, she screams
unable to understand the horror the sky has seen


Details | Rhyme | |

Rose Red

Rose, rose, my sweet rose red
doth thou see thy fate ahead?
The heavens cry dark arsenic rains
poisoning your fragile veins
Rose, rose, my sweet rose pale
the liquid death hath left thou frail
weak and withered, spirit worn
with stems turned black and petals torn

(June, 11, 2013)


Details | I do not know? | |

Still Waiting

Oh! my rose flower

I am waiting for you with a rose in my hand

I am waiting for a moment just to express my feelings

I never thought that moment would be as long as my life

And I am ready to wait whole my life

But suddenly water flowing from my eyes with out my knowledge

And I am unable to cope myself with the truth that you are not existing

I am screaming out loudly

I am crying out madly

And atlast

I am waiting at the same place

With the red rose turned black

With my clean face turned beared

With my neat dress turned torn

With my tears turned blood drops

My heart beat now stopped

My breath now ended

But I am still at the same place and waiting for you.


Details | Free verse | |

The Rose

This immortal rose that lovers seek
will be glimpsed by all in youthful peak
for her presence will be on every corner.

And those who confuse that heady perfume
with a lust for love,
will only find winter in an unknown heart
for beauty was always a fragile thing.

 We who have seen this gift from above
will always get burned by its light.
The poet and the painter
have perfumed our existence
with loves testimony to this.

The pain and tears fall on empty shield
 for love will break your heart
but when we reach out to hold the rose 
picked from these fields of hope,
a moment in life unfurls,
 love will kiss your soul
and the world belongs to you.

Fleeting are the petals of time
the rose is a symbol to love.
For others it is the pain of life,
to find and lose this immortal gift
leaves a desert where life cannot breathe.

 The laughter replaced by silence
the smile that is kept in darkness,
the kiss exiled to the memory.

Love is lost in the deepest pit
of your despair,
the thorns will bleed your soul red
but she can never die.

Love will always leave a spark
that will lead you to redemption
and only death can take this from you.

The rose was never yours to pick
but its creation yours to admire
for your being was made for this.

And as our mortal bodies die
 the spirit will seek the rose once more
for in death its petals fall too
blessing the ground of your resting place.

The rose was always yours 
and its beauty a source of life
the chains of doubt will always 
break in its presence.

The rose is pure
as is your faith in mankind.
It can show you a deeper meaning
for you are the petals of life
she is the perfume of your existence
and it is you that made her life complete.






Details | Free verse | |

Hungry Thief

For the first time ever,
a Cardinal's nest lay cleverly hidden
in a juncture of two branches
of the red rose climber
on the south wall of our garage.

Over the years, we'd watched with pleasure
as House Finches, Eastern Phoebe,
Bluebirds, and Wrens nested in flowerpots,
birdhouses, spruce trees, and on porch walls.
Purple Martins snootily passed us by
in spite of elaborate housing provided.
 
Once, a Rufous-sided Towhee deposited
her eggs on the ground, underneath
a large cedar tree near the driveway.
We mowed around them, shooed turtles 
toward distant woods, and watched 
eggs hatch, babies fly into the future.

Cardinal babes were a new and welcome
experience. Almost daily, we peeked.
But grief came quickly with eagle eye, 
hooked talon, and razor-edged beak.
A Cooper's Hawk left a shattered nest, 
a mother's heart ripped apart, and us,
feeling her pain to the marrow of our bones.



Details | Lyric | |

I Remember the Rose

For most, a rose is romance.
A rose is the passion within -
The forgiving flower.
The tenderness that is, pure love.
But not to me.
A rose to me is sadness,
It’s essence and it’s scent,  
I recall a painful memory -
A lonely reminder of a woman,
I never got to meet.
It’s velvet beauty surrounded her,
So pale and still she lay
My grandma.
I recall my father’s face;
The first time I ever seen him cry.
On his knees by his mother -
At her coffin.
So when I smell a rose’s love,
In retrospect, I think I understand
The beauty and the essence it demands.
For it was the rose that I remember -
and I think about her quiet face,
My Nana, 
the gentle rose
The woman that brought my father
to his knees.


Details | Pantoum | |

Last Rosebud of Summer

Small burgundy rose bud
Surely the last rose of summer
Very tightly bound like a stud
You've graced my day, an affirmer

Surely the last rose of summer
Winter will come bringing cold
You've graced my day, an affirmer
That my existence should be bold

Surely the last rose of summer
Very tightly bound like a stud
Winter will come bringing cold
Small burgundy rose bud


(Stud here means like a stud on clothes that is an ornanment)


Details | Free verse | |

The Salted Leaf

Crystal sapphirine salted leaf,
The forlorn friend of aqua rose.
Memories of ages, only the leaf knows.
Bright blue tears of eternal grief.
The wedding bands confirm our love.
Passion, ardent affection for life.
I and Lenore forever my wife,
Beautiful as a pure white dove.
The eye of the rose reflects all,
You see the past in a single glance.
The aqua rose: Lenore, did me enhance.
Away she flew, to kingdom hall.
Why? Did she die; I do not know.
Answers in the blue crystal salt,
Sapphirine leaf will sorrow halt.
I eat the leaf for status quo,
My heartbeat quickens, then a smile.
Lenore, my wife doth call me hither.
Aqua rose begins to wither.
The saga must continue.


Details | ABC | |

Winter's solace

Cold sent shivers down his spine 
His soul aching to be complete 
Quenching his thirst with blood he calls wine 
Thuds of his heart on the street
Just for tonight his mask no longer worn
Winter sympathizing his state
For he was pricked by a thorn
A thorn that belonged to his dearest rose
A rose he no longer held 
Mind wandering to the time he found solace
In the arms of his rose he lays 
Her  porcelain face still lingers in mind 
Flashing eyes in anger as he betrayed 
Eyes of eternity will never leave him 
His solitary ground no longer steadied him 
Forever wandering with no comfort
With no hope, no tears left to dry 
Heavens above heard his cries
Finally joining in sadness
Wind blew sending shivers through him
Surrendering he waits for winters solace


Details | Free verse | |

Secret Garden

Tentative rose thorns graze my skin as I push through the plant-walled garden
They neither break skin nor draw those secret white lines across it
Lillies of the valley wonder where their valley has gone when they realise they are on
flat land
Their delicate white petals stare at the clouds which gather like ants to an amberule of honey
I can feel the rain on the air, it clothes me in a heavy gown of foreboding and expectation
The birds who once called across the garden to their avian lovers silently flutter home
In the tall birches and oaks and evergreens, in the bright aboreal verendace, their world
I walk through a stream which has trickled and will trickle for ages, 
patiently it cuts away the tarnished granite bed, deeper and deeper,
Tiny frogs leap away in instinctive terror, my feet suddenly transformed into evil monsters,
and as I step out of the stream bed, I wonder where all the butterflies have gone when I
see a moth
With spanning black wings as dark as night, edged with gold as bright as the sun,
its antennae are feathery and magnificently plume the insect's noble head, a crown above
all crowns,
Its six legs are carried tightly under its richly-furred black body, little dagger-glows
sheathed,
I reach out a hand as tentative as the rose thorns, and the moth plays with me,
taunting me with its nocturnal majesty, with its iridescent wings, with its reflective eyes,
To my eternal satisfaction the lordly moth alights upon my fingers, 
and I wince as its claws grip my tightly, it folds in its wings, its royal robes of office,
The golden filligree glitters and the soft pixie dust all moths carry falls unnoticed onto
my hand,
Body quivering, I see the unmistakable mark across its elegant wing-shape; 
death's head, a human skull, remnant of a past life,
laughing at me in my folly, 
the lordly insect takes flight, leaving my with the sliently roses, the apathetic lillies,
the meandering stream, to contemplate the incomprehensible
and I breathe in the dust of the moth,
forgetting butterflies had ever existed, for the death's head 
rules the secret garden day and night
and now I understand these things, 
which only the whispered languages of the garden could say.


Details | Free verse | |

Why Should A Rose Be Red

Why should a rose be red?

Danger, caution, blood.

Why should a rose mean love?

Heart break, betrayal, lust. 


Why should I have listened?

Naive, young, a fool. 

Why should I have believed? 

Ignorance, fear, hope.


Why should you be dying?

Revenge, justice, hate.

Why should I follow?

Remorse, guilt ... pain.


Details | Pastoral | |

My child, My Rose

 Today like so many, I said a prayer for the families. For the students that lost 
their lives to a man that many didn't know.


  Heavenly Father, I ask you this day to watch over the families. Watch over the 
souls of the students that lost their lives to an intruder of evil. Evil has prayed 
upon the innocent and those doing your work. I pray for these families, in hopes 
they may find closure to such a tragedy.

 So many lives have been taken. So many hearts have been stricken with grief. 
Allow them to know that only the body is put to rest and not the soul. For the body 
is made from sands of thee earth. To thee earth may the body be replanted to 
sprout new life. May their tears replenish thee earth with water to feed the new 
life. In thee end may life be brought back in the form of a rose. A rose that may 
grow with the darkest shades of red. For it is the color in which signifies "Love". If 
your will. Allow the stem and leaves to be as green as thee pastures for which 
they lay their heads to rest. May the thorns be sharp to protect them for intruders. 
May their rose grow from now until the end.

                                                                AMEN


Details | I do not know? | |

The Rose

A single rose blooming wild and free
Captures my eye as I sit beneath a tree.
Its petals are so delicately spread apart
And it brings the true meaning of love to my heart.
As I sit beneath this three of green
It reminds me of many roses I've seen.
But this rose doesn't seem the same
For this one is special-
So it is this rose I will claim.


Details | Couplet | |

A Dead Rose

The rose grows unbalanced to the right
Because she is deprived of light,

Water is scarce, but when it can run,
The rose soaks it up and leans into the sun,

Her thorns are stunted and endearingly tender,
Though this means they do not have strength to defend her,

Her petals are thin and so easily torn,
Such a delicate flower the bush never had borne,

But far fairer roses selfishly surround her,
And this is how the gardener found her.

So pull out her petals so pretty and pale,
And break off her prickles so fragile and frail,

Then cut off her head and leave her to decay,
Tend the wilier roses and just walk away.

And as her sap weeps as she withers and rots,
The rose is watched smugly by the flowers in their pots,

And as she lies dying in darkness on the floor,
They turn to the sun and lounge in it some more,

And when the rain washes the dead rose away,
The flowers are asleep and have nothing to say.


Details | Free verse | |

my rose

as i wait to see i find that my life is over and i cry for days to be and i see that i can 
not stop this my black rose is the death of me and i can not wait to see the rose 
for my own eyes my life is as black as night my love is no longer with me for she 
has seen the rose before me why was i born to die and why must i die to live i do 
not  understand this and my life is fading fast the fogs of my darkness is in my 
head my hell night is as bad as i make it.and i give a rose to my love only now 
may my  rose has come for me


Details | Narrative | |

a rose

A rose lay dead and dry
As a Girl sits to cry
The rose feels her tears
but knows not of her fears
The dead, dry rose can sense her pain and sorrow
For it too has no tommorrow
Alas that girl and the rose will sit there together and crumble
Their souls shall tumble
And the two will wither away
They'll both rot today
That girl and the dead, dry rose will never see another sunrise again
For today their end began....


Details | Narrative | |

A Rose Short-Lived

In the early days of March, at the very start of spring
I saw people plant roses, and praise the love they would bring
Well, at that point I had been saving a special sort of seed
And that spring I would plant it, even though there where warnings, I did not heed
And now loves rose is dead, and with it, burnt, is loves creed

Woe! That seed I had saved, held close and took care of from a very early age
That seed I had obtained from an accidental meeting, on the swings, at a very early age
Now I fear that this seed is ruined, and I fear I’ve lost a friend
It’s a fear that digs deep into my cold, melancholy core, I can’t pretend
For it was a beautiful friendship, that I never intended to end

Yes, I had planted this seed in the early days of March, the month of my birth
And though at first the rose was shy, it slowly stemmed out of the earth
 But it was soon growing faster, faster even than the fabled roses of lore
It grew with such a haste that one might have thought that it wouldn’t grow anymore
Yes, this rose, that might have frown too fast, had put love in my core

Now, on the last day of March, the very date on which, many years ago, I was born
This rose gave me a gift as it hid from me every thorn
And this rose, it seemed, had given me the will to succeed 
In my life, I had finally had the confidence to take the lead
I loved, more than anything, the rose that sprouted out of this seed 

And the month that followed, I can’t lie, was bliss
And it’s time I will, forever more, miss
For the month following, I regret to say, my rose died
Indeed, it was the only time that, for a flower, I had ever cried
It left me weeping, with no ego left to gloat, with no self pride

Yes, early in May is where you may date my death
Call me death, for without that rose, I’m not living, though I still draw breath
Lay me on my death bed, and let my quietly pass on, away
For any place without that rose is no place I want to stay
So please, lay me on my death bed, and leave! Let me lay

Woe, that rose died, and I can only guess why
Perhaps I watered it too much, and forced it to be too un-shy
Perhaps I was too ignorant to say the words it needed to hear
Yes, perhaps, perhaps, that all I can say
And I will say it all the while 
While I walk away
Farewell 
Goodbye
Good
Bye


Details | Rhyme | |

Jesus Lives

Once a very long time was born a perfect,righteous man 
He died upon a rugged cross, but yet, He rose and lived again. 
Jesus died that day but in the grave He didn't really stay 
From the clutches of sin and death He broke for us the chain 
As the boulder from his sepulcher rolled away they said. 
I am so glad to believe that Jesus came in order to save us all. 
And now between our Heavenly Father and us there's no more a wall. 
Because God to this earth His only Begotten Son He sent. 
And Jesus in total perfection his whole life He spent. 
But upon the cross He chose for us to bear our sins. 
He definitely did it all for us out of Love. 
He absolutely did it all just for you and me… 
He died while pleading forgiveness to His Heavenly Father above. 
Yes, death couldn't keep Him down as He rose again that day. 
The grave was found emptied and Jesus was never seen there 
And Jesus bought with his Precious blood our sins that day. 
The stone just rolled away and Jesus lives in my heart everyday. 
Jesus has risen!And He lives! He can wash your sins and mine.Be thankful and pray. 
Jesus my king and Savior lives and always will be here for you and me. 



Dorian Petersen Potter 
aka ladydp2000 
copyright@2009 


March,26,2009


Details | Rhyme | |

A Rose

Today I picked a single Red Rose
with overpowering beauty, warmth, and flare.
The love,joy, and  happiness it once represented
is diminished for you are no longer there.

A Rose is given for a joyous and special time
to express the love we have in our heart.
But a Rose is also given after a storm,
to express the loneliness when we're apart

My Rose for you is for your beauty
for your warmth and for your smile.
Because of this single Red Rose,
I'll think of you as I go each mile

Your memories will always bloom in my life
as bold and beautiful as this Rose.
I'll cherish each and every single pebble
so your memories will never close.


Details | Free verse | |

To Endure a Thorn

Life is garden full of various fauna.
 
There will be brush that appeals to the touch and other vegetation that appeal to the other senses.
 
You will find flowers with the most intoxicating of fragrances. Witness flowers with the most beautiful of petals.
You will hear the buds come to blossom. Here you will taste the most exotic and comforting of nectars.
 
But the rose you seek will have the most thorns. 
This rose is called joy.
But to hold this rose means one must endure its thorns.
 
We must ignite the passion that can melt away the pain and rekindle the flame so it’s warmth can dry our eyes and rid us  of all our previous shame.
 
We do this all to hold a rose, spend restless nights , shed tears, feel scorned,
....all to endure a touch of a thorn.


Details | Sonnet | |

A Rose It is life A Rose It is death

When smelling a Rose of beauty and life it’s life soon to end it’s consumed by fear, With perfume and thorns it will grow in strife But with death upon, there’s not but a tear. When you silently wish for life and love, a Rose! in spring’s sweet bloom, brings this with joy but it’s frozen by winter’s crystal dove and Flies away unremembered like toys. A Rose is Life singing a perfect song it’s melody like snow gently falling. A Rose is Death, for fear’s mercy is wrong if it would take it’s life at Death’s calling. But you know the truth of a rose’s life it will be stolen as if by a knife.


Details | Blank verse | |

Red Rose Petaled Bath

Red rose petals in the bathtub of scented dripping water,

Candles gently flickering in the background,

Sending an iridescent glow throughout the bathroom,

Soft melodies can be heard from a distant room.

Why is it so sad?

A naked body stands in front of a fogging mirror,

A tear trickles down a wet cheek,

Sadness weeps through those glistening eyes,

A chin quivers and sighs,

Inside the sound of a weak heart can be heard,

Thumping loudly,

Ringing in the ears,

Boom – boom, boom – boom, boom – boom,

Why is it so loud?

A hand reaches down onto the counter by the sink,

Grabs a hold of something and draws it up,

Those sad eyes take one last look into that fogging mirror, and shut tightly,

The blood starts to drip so fast,

Down the arms,

Onto the sink, floor and feet,

Fear, panic, dizziness overwhelming,

 

Into the red rose petal bath,

Odd – the water turns so dark,

The red so vibrant,

Why is blood red?

Slipping into incoherence,

The fear is gone, panic disappeared,

Falling now – maybe floating,

Until;

There is no more,

Why is that so ironic?


Details | I do not know? | |

A Faded Rose

  Once there was a strapping young man that gave a beautiful red rose to a 
charming young woman. She loved him so much that she would have given her 
every breath for him.
  One day he came to her and said,"I don't love you anymore. I am so sorry but 
this I say is true. I can no longer live this lie. I say this for it is not fair to you that I 
stay. It will only prolong your pain ad I will not be responsible for that. You are  a 
young and beautiful woman and some day you will find someone that is worthy of 
you and your love, but that one is not I. This you must understand." As he turned 
and walked out the door the tears began to fall like ice dripping off a roof top. She 
cried for days and finally the tears no longer came.
  The day all her loved ones knew would come. She had finally got past the pain. 
She was gone, never to feel the pain of his loss again for she had given her every 
breath just as she vowed to do. When they found her deceased body, she was 
holding a faded red rose from days gone by.


Details | Rhyme | |

Then Night Came

The sun did rise;
Its golden pallor brightening the land,
giving heat and light to the pristine earth,
lush vegetation, rich soil, and pure sand,
our planet glowing with life at its birth,
wondrous creatures, some great and some small,
spreading across this expanse that was fair,
uncounted plant life, some short and some tall,
supplied the needs of creatures, ground, and air,
then night came.

The sun did rise; The eye that gazed saw a two-legged man,
staring grateful at this wondrous orb,
its heat and its light he did understand,
felt good on the skin, its warmth to absorb,
the tilling of crops to store for the cold,
with the sun he worked form dawn into night,
the raising of flocks to keep in the fold,
against the coming of the winter fright,
then night came.

The sun did rise;
Plumes of soot and dust rose into the air,
death's foul chemicals had no place to go,
the greedy man fought for more than his share,
to take hold of all riches was his goal, 
putting his brothers neck under his heel,
to rise up to the ultimate power,
no remorse or pity did this one feel,
to sit atop that Babelic tower,
then night came.

The sun did rise;
Decay and stench rose up upon the land,
buildings and structures crumbling into heaps,
a smoldering waste the dying wind fanned,
carrion and rats were filled with their feast,
a hazy dark cloud did cover all things,
the green that was there now turned into brown,
no longer were humans able to sing,
the earth was dying, not making a sound,
then night came.


Details | I do not know? | |

Overcome

We are strong, wise and have the capabilities to rise.
Countries have risen above communism.
Women have risen above sexism.

But when will we rise above the killings, rise above the deaths?

We rise above the school systems and teenage troubles;
but what about the rest?
 
It’s time to stop littering these streets with grief,
time to give our families relief.
How much more pain do you think the inner city can take?
All these fallen  tears are from the heartache that some of us chose to make.

Live life instead of taking it, refuse death instead of creating it.

Our ancestors rose above slavery, we’re rising above hate;
don’t let these headlines (“inner city streets of boston hit 48th homicide of 2006")-
become the inner cities fate.

We rose above so much.
We’ll rise above it all;
but it’s time for our youth to rise before the next generation falls.


Details | Free verse | |

RUBY, THE RED ROSE

There once were twelve sisters, fresh, long legged and beautiful
Clustered amongst baby's breath being featured on center stage
Day to day the attention needed waned in the settling dusty mire
Eleven sisters were lost in their glamoured celebration, all but one

Ruby in solo stands alone, surrounded by her sisters, dry, athirst
Amrs lay at their sides lifeless while each head is lowerd in prayer
Centered as if on point in a macabre ballet pose, Ruby is radiant
Starring in a magical garden dance titled, "A Mid-Summer Nightmare"

During the full moon, lunar rays spotlight her vessel-ed reservior
The stillness is broken by a haunting breeze, stirring up the dust
Slowly trickling downward over Ruby's like a mystical star conjuring
Ruby is blushing in the electric glow of a blood red magnificence

At last, dawn comes in a blistering and dry heat in the stale room
Ruby's long stem shrivels from lack of moisture, arms wilt at her side
Gracefully bowing her head, joining her eleven sisters in quiet prayer
Ruby's celebration of color, fragrance, ends her final performance...






  


Details | Verse | |

At the graveside...

I held the strap taut, bowing down at the dirt,
six feet or more, the rectangular hole,
no sweetness or welcome, just earth on the lid
where resided the bones of the previous soul.

Lowered with care, my brother and I
and two other bearers toiling behind,
the cheap gleaming wood decked with cheap plastic brass,
to a standstill of rest, to an end of a kind.

“The Lord is my Shepard,” we murdered off key
as the wind blew accompaniment over the hill;
ravens took flight to the overcast sky,
rain fell sporadically, spattered with chill.

I remembered her photos of when she was young,
spread on the frayed pinafore there in her lap,
a patchwork of sepia, white and grey dreams
she no longer remembered, her mind set to snap.

The scant recognition then blurred in her eyes,
drained simian brown, no more clear and blue;
her head wisps of silver, mere gossamer strands,
adrift and unkempt, no light shining through.

Her sad loss of reason, the slump of her spine,
the cloud-bank rolled in with no instant of pause,
the stealing of dignity, ravage of time,
the theft of her life, of the woman she was.

I cried her no tears, assigned her no grief,
brushed the rose in my pocket, the flower I hid;
when no one was looking, I bade her farewell,
dropped the rose and a kiss down onto the lid.

When asked about tributes, the family replied,
“She didn’t want flowers, so we’ve done as bid,”
I sat there in silence, bit down on my tongue,
for I knew, from one person, she did.


Details | I do not know? | |

The Rose

The rose so delicately picked
Pricks and bleeds its life blood from the thorn,
The droplets marring the green grass;
Tingeing the blades with death.
Watch your hands,
Don’t get caught.
Life lessons are learnt
As lies are taught.
A world with no morals
And a hell with no bounds,
Luring the damned
As the demons dance round.
Petals turn to dust
As the fire of depravity
Turns morality to rust.
As the years unfold
The story is told
Of how the roses colour
Came to be.
A fair young maiden
In the fields does wait
For her brave young hero
Who has being slaying enemies in battle.
He did arrive, wounded badly
And hardly alive.
The maiden ran to him as he did collapse
And held him in her arms.
As his life slipped away.
Thru sheer despair
The young maiden did weep.
She cried for so many years
Her eyes had bled,
Making the ground so wet
That the flowers she did weep upon
Soaked up her stained tears
And that is why
The rose is red.