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Best Rose Poems

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Details | Rose Poem | |

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 | Rose Poem | |

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 | Rose Poem | |

A Winter Rose - A Sonnet

I walk through the glistening virgin snow
That covers the sorrow of autumn’s death 
Where I find on a bush a frozen rose  
Its beauty held ageless in winter’s breath 

How I long to touch those petals again 
Those moist velvet lips that promise such bliss 
Opened in passion whispering my name 
As I drift in dreams of a breathless kiss 

Oh! To pluck this rose from the winter snow 
And hold it closely to my aching heart
And free it from that ice so bitter cold 
That now my love keeps you and me apart

But if I were to pluck this winter rose 
Would all its petals fall upon the snow? 

                 ~~~~~



Author:  Elaine George
Written:  January 15, 2010






Details | Rose Poem | |

The Rose Bowl

The sky is one gigantic bowl of pink turned upside down, spilling soft rosy petals that peeked out from beneath snow white billowed clouds till - fully blossomed - they burst out. Growing radiant at the edge of twilight, they’ve scattered as rubescent streaks falling, lush and luminescent, as we watch in solitude. No parade this evening - just you and I aglow, wishing for an eternity to be like this: so splendidly in love. . . in the pink. For the Free for All of Charlotte Puddifoot

Details | Rose Poem | |

High Bred Reality

     Soul progress
     back field in motion
The guff
     Chose, chose, live grow leave!  GO!

Leapt from heaven's gold
Jump started into a human mold

    White clapboard poverty with tiger lily blooms,
blueberry rake poverty woolen looms.

Riffs of Emerson, Whitman, Longfellow dawns,
mothers’ hazel eyes, father Davidesque form,
chosen to drive twixt a Jew and a screw.
          Magnet of lunacy...
Tumbled like an agate into the stream of life
part of the dream lesson
scream      lesson

Abuser of power, one who had once roared,
 Eve shaped now, weak and mewling
                 between the weeds of woe.
Care taken by lovers torn.
          Watched over by pedophile uncles.
Befriended by lewd Father of sons.
Adult child, searching amongst the Word
for the Word is God           and GOD …
       There are so many   words
    
Root ripped scenes from beauty to horror
Shiksa* taunts seep in with the smell of borsch. 
 A pumpkinseed amongst the pricks of Brooklyn
A wild rose planted in the asphalt soil 
     Doo-wop      ditty
Jew’s bop to a Dago harmony,
bagels, bialys and the French twisted strands 
of great grandma’s hair.
          Clipped, stripped of family shoved whole 
into yet another new mold.
      True believers,  ah yes,      fanatics all.
The struggle to survive whole healthy
dipped in, dripped in, a bath of acid and  thorazine. 
Polish priests pedal platitudes to the sisters of St. Joseph 
behind the gilded glory of the Church.

Raped by trust and betrayed by lovers,
a rose married to a prickles thorn,
so empathy is gained, and a healer born.
              Metal must be formed in a crucible of fire 
A healer can not be born without tasting the pyre.



Details | Rose Poem | |

Where Crimson Bleeds Its Rose

Under a half moon He becomes my dream A secret uncloaked Emotion unveiled A mystery revealed Existence of warmth between subconscious and implicit knowledge And it is there... `neath the soft spot of my heart where crimson bleeds its velvet upon his bare breath Its there where my blushed lips loose their virginity Where my fair cheeks suffuse with rosy glow It is there where fiery needs are fulfilled Fervent desires scorched Candlelit pleasures beheld It is there where alluring visions embrace my suppressed memory and take over this barren soul As his ardent voice call in an enticing whisper in a unique accent into my left ear My love~Mi amor That is the preserved moment when my unwholiness becomes whole That is the moment those glancing eyes capture my own Only until... Mr sandman leaves behind wet proposals on dry soil Early mist envelops the bridge Aurora rises in new awakening Last zephyr breeze fades away and once again He is gone,gone.

Details | Rose Poem | |

The Flower -part one-

“A Flowers Wilt”	

Witness the small existence 
that abides the beauty of-----------
Freelancers all around,
Just to get a good look.

A baneful abrasion, the flower took
It captivates you -------------
Reels you, steals from you, 
WAITING, 
Until you pick the right flawless touch.

Dandelions swaying thin,
Here we fall like petals.
Ready to exploit, the beauty of-------
Inhale the fragrance,

Courtyard azure eyes, 
Embarking in a wishful eternity,
A crush they become, when loveliness up and left. 
A bully against arrogant, threw feminine perfumed veils
Tulips waiting for the better auspicious’ sky
Asters claims the eclipse's,
-dinginess censors it from the brilliance of the sun.
~
A lonely rose
In My Helix World-
The out-and-out are born.
Cries in the dimness, 
A sweet Lotus echo’ 
Slight yelps of agony, carried off by pollen breeze.
The earth revolves to fast,
Injections of herbal essence in the wind
For a split second, we feel pixie dust
Channel the essential, it fades
Earlier beauty, calmness-
A flourish smile,
Rusk of flower, a bluebird’s bread.

Like candles and dew, they stream and limber energy
Opposing others of its humanity, 
Against the command of its importance,
Pierced by its own elegance,
Thriving slowly of its own will, 
A short story, gone stray!
Tonight, we plant a tree, 

The Flower wilts
The gardener cries


By;PD

Details | Rose Poem | |

Wild Love

The blackberry's love for the garden rose
Brought down the gardener's wrath.
The blackberry sensed the danger
As he wended the garden path.

" A love so true as mine", he sighed,
"Must dare to brave the hoe.
Just a few more feet to reach her,
My true love she must know."

He crept along so quietly,
Sometimes quite out of sight
Until he nudged his darling's feet.
Did he dare to trust the light?

He heard the gardener's heavy boot
And hid in craven shame.
He knew he'd soon be weeded out,
A seedling with no name.

"Have I no worth since I don't rate
Some Latin nomenclature?
Without a well known parentage
Am I a freak of nature?

His darling's line was long and pure,
No skeletons in her past.
He had to make his feelings known.
Those boots were treading fast.

Gently then he wrapped his vine
Around his loved one's spine.
In great amazement he opined,
"Her thorns are sharp as mine".

The sweet rose felt his tender touch
And realized his fear
And wondered at his bravery
In coming to her here.

She heard the swishing of the hoe,
She heard those nearing feet.
Quietly letting down her leaves 
In a manner so discreet

She covered her wild lover.
The gardener unaware,
Stopped but to view her beauty.
He saw naught hiding there.

She whispered, "You are safe now".
The blackberry's heart was light,
Thankful that his dear sweet rose
Had not exposed his plight.

"A rose is still a rose." she said,
"By any other name
And in our distant ancestry,
We share some of the same".

"I'd rather know your wild love,
Than a love that's dull and tame,"
Cuddling close, returned his kiss
Without a bit of shame.

Next season there were seedlings
Of a very different kind.
The gardener delighted, cried
"A horticultural find."

The moral of this story?
Things aren't always what they seem.
The love you look down on today,
Could be tomorrow's dream.




Details | Rose Poem | |

The Rose

Tis the rose that wants to live
That rails against the frost,
Tightly closed, the petals warm
The autumn heart that summer lost.

The dew that drips from rose to leaf
Like tears from cheek to breast,
Once was cold, now shimmers warm
To earn, at last, its' rest.

The blackened bud, once struck with cold
Appears to others dead,
But burns within, a passionate soul,
And heart of bright and crimson red.

And bursting forth it cannot hide
The will to live within,
Its' bold and subtle softness tells
Persistent hearts can win.





Details | Rose Poem | |

The Special Rose

She sits and rocks, so gently back and forth
Her chin leaning heavily on her chest.
In her hands she cradles, one flat waxed rose
And sighs as pain is swelling in her breast.

Her long grey hair, now tied up in a bun
Is what I see when entering the room.
I helplessly watch, her tear drops flowing,
They look like dew, upon the lonely bloom.

Slowly she looks at a picture nearby,
A glimpse of a smile creases her face.
Granddad with her, stand on their wedding day
With red roses, and a dress of white lace.

After the wedding, she said with a smile,
I took this one rose and waxed it back then.
Granddad had laughed at me wondering why.
I said, for the special memories when…….

And now this old rose, I hold in my hand,
Precious memories kept in my drawer
I pull it out remembering the day
When granddad loved me, and I loved him more.


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.25.2014
Contest: Encounters with Flowers 
5th

Details | Rose Poem | |

Rose Colored Glass

He sees the rose in her cheeks
She sees the wrinkles of time in her mirror

He sees the long, flowing brunette of her shining hair
She sees wisps of grey, dull hair that she can't manage

He sees shine and twinkle in her blue eyes
She sees her reflection through corrective lenses

He holds the soft, smooth hand that wears a gold band
She feels him squeeze her weathered, gnarled hand

He sees her running through the garden to greet him
She feels the pain, as she walks with her cane to meet him

He sees the girl he met and loved at seventeen
She sees the love of her life

He sees through rose colored glasses
She adores him






Dedicated to my grandparents
Contest Entry, 'Love Me Tender' sponsored by Miss Kristin Reynolds

Details | Rose Poem | |

~ A Velvet Rose ~

She writes with such fragrance....

Her words, like flowers

Flowing from her pen

Eyes like the ocean

Serenity, that never ends

The softness of her touch

Her heart melting from within

Such gentleness of colors

Like the still warming wind....

On journies she takes us

Her vision our eyes

The breath of her breathing

Brings life deep inside

A passage, her picture

These sands of her shores

I whisper her majestic

I long for her more....

Smiling as I see her

The breeze dancing through her hair

Such glory, her figure

Radiant I stare

At her light, this lady

Her wrappings of care....

Gentle is her essence

With her pureness profound

Her grace as she walks

As she passes I bow

To her wonders, her treasures

Her life, I bow....

For never have my eyes

Beheld such as she 

Never in this life

Have I found such a dream

Her eloquence, her meakness

Her enchanting soul

Painting this canvas, her portrait 

This splendor, for all to behold....

To love with such passion

The worlds hand, that she holds

Her fragrance, like flowers...."Her Beauty!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                ~ A Velvet Rose ~

Details | Rose Poem | |

A Rose In The Heather.

So still and beautiful lays the rose in the heather,
Lifeless and dying, given to bring you happiness,
So fragile is this rose laying in heather,
Slowly withering and drying, crumbling to a powder,
I look at you and see this rose ever fading,
Once growing, living, accenting its surroundings,
But now gone, plucked from the bush by one mans lust,
I could never compare you to this rose laying in the heather,
For your beauty surpasses its own,

So still and beautiful lays this rose in the heather,
Now dried cracking and dead, stored in a book to bring memories,
So weak and faded is this rose in yellowing heather,
Slowly falling apart as you touch the fragile petals,
I look at you and remember the flower when it faded,
That germinated and grew where I had sown its seed,
Now gone, plucked from the ground by one mans hope,
I would never compare you to this old heather and roses,
For its life was surpassed by yours,

Now I tell you I love you with cellophaned roses in heather,
Draining lifeless this dying confession of my dreaming,
This rose is more fragile then the first had I gave you,
But I could’t approach, my courage eroding at your sight,
I look at you now and see the love I sought inward,
Once alive and growing but only within lost confines of myself,
But never quite gone I hold this consuming fire close inside,
I could never combine your world with mine,
You always looked passed never noticing me,

Now I open my book that holds the first rose, wishing I gave it for the sake of 
chance,
Instead I hold a created memory that never came passing, 
That never could I fear,
I hold tight to the lie that through wonted silence I painted,     
But that chance for your love died with the first rose wrapped in heather.

Details | Rose Poem | |

Winter's Rose

white frost streaks her hair
smooth ice-sculpture skin of youth
     stroked by cracks
            wrinkles that have weathered life
                 skin once firmly packed sags

in the mirror a figure she doesn’t recognize
    but she laughs
          budding spring beauty
               summer rose that danced through seemingly timeless evenings

restless rebellion came with fall
     withering, yearning

but winter, sweet winter
fills her heart with warm memories
     resignation, acceptance of a life well-lived
               a spirit that will never die

winter’s rose smiles, prepares for eternal life


*Entry for Gail's "Inspirational" poems contest
by Carolyn Devonshire


Details | Rose Poem | |

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 | Rose Poem | |

Sweet Deathly Rose

Oh, mild flower I chanced to meet,
A ruby red, yet so discreet.
She'd never seen a hue my blue.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

Her fragrance wafted on the breeze,
And all were drawn to her with ease.
I put down roots near her and grew.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

Though in her garden all seems well,
there still are things she hates to tell.
Her thorns, a shield, conceal what's true.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

Beneath her thorns, resentment grows.
Disturb her and her petals close!
I learned too well what could ensue. . . 
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

A casual remark was said.
Her ruby rose turned scarlet red. . .
I guiltless pled. Did I misdo?
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

A fury she had kept so deep
had been unleashed; it made me weep.
Retaliation cut me through.
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.

A leaf of peace she offered me:
Be friends, but only partially.
But I refused and shall eschew
Sweet deathly rose that I once knew.




Details | Rose Poem | |

Rose and Rose Marie

‘Twas on a morn’ in early spring
When I met Rose Marie
In a garden
Where she sat - upon a bench
Beneath a willow tree

Where - with a glance
My heart was stabbed
With pangs of jealousy 
For it was  - very plain to see
She was - by far - more beautiful than me

She spoke -  with colored words - like rainbows
Spun with  threads of gold 
As she described the man she loved
With all her heart and soul

She told me - of his beauty
Raven hair and eyes of green 
And as she talked  - he appeared -  before me
As in a  -  living dream

She told me - how she met him
On the Shore of Evermore
There in the fields - above the cliffs
Amid the mist - an ocean roar

She told me how -  with their first kiss
He carried her away
As he poured his love - into her soul
There - so high above - that wind-swept bay
With Heaven  - but a breath away

Her words - like magic - in that moment
Cast a  spell on me
For I too now - had fallen - so deeply - in love
With Cannon Lee

I longed to feel his breath 
His lips upon my velvet skin
I longed to quench - the lustful thoughts
That now  burned  - so deep within

So - when Rose Marie - stood up to leave
And turned her back on me
I dug my thorns into her wrist
And  sealed - my evil deed

My jealousy - now turned to poison
Ran quickly through her veins
And as she tried - to pry me loose
I clawed her - once again

"Tainted blood" - is what they say
Stole his love away
And that is how - I came to be here
On these cliffs today.

So tenderly - he holds me now
And  finally kisses me
As his tears - fall on my open petals
And trickle  - down my leaves

Then - from his lips - there comes a cry
Of such despair - it cracks the sky
“ My darling - my love - my life 
Why did you have to die?”


And here so high - above these cliffs
These cliffs of ‘Evermore’
I hear her name - resounding -  above  the ocean roar
‘Rose Marie’ - ‘Rose Marie’
As he cast me  -  with a final kiss
Into the raging sea.

            ~~~

Author:  Elaine George
August 29th, 2009

Details | Rose Poem | |

You Know I Love You

Winds may howl,
Wild animals growl,
The forest grows cold, 
For I am lonesome and old
As the sun peaks through the clouds, 
I hear your soft, young voice so loud!
And though you speak dead man's lines,
You speak them with majesty divine
As I am wrapped in  my woe,
I only want you to know...
...that roses die black and violets lose blue,
But I will never die
And you know I love you!

Details | Rose Poem | |

Rose of thorns

Rose of thorns

The crimson hue became a thorn and everlasting blossom
- its imaging was tho' entombed inside his convolutions
so braving bloomed the pasture was, forever his and blithesome;
the fine drops dropping, turned to be the moistening ablutions.

Amid the shadows of the dusk, the myrtle mauve enhances
the passing of the veil that dark descends and hides the ridges;
while the eternal rose of thorns, that agitates and dances,
his crimson solitude embraced and life, amidst the breezes.

Aeonian, the blooming rose, his destiny reverses;
the jagged reasoning of thorns and emptiness that signals
consequently becomes a tomb, betimes chivalric verses
while in the rain dilutes and flows along the windy fiddles.

© 03-22-2014, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
(Iambic Decapentasyllabic verse)
(new poem)

Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Contest Name: Every Rose Has It's Thorn
Deadline: 4/20/2014

Details | Rose Poem | |

Red Rose With Thorns

 
Beautiful red rose
Enticing the eyes to hold
Long stem, full of thorns

By eve roper 10/26/2014



Contest: ROSES ROSES ROSES
Sponsor: Mystic Rose





Details | Rose Poem | |

By Any Other Name

If love could have a color, I suppose
it wouldn’t be just any common shade.
I’d name it for the colors of the rose.
In heaven’s hues this flower is arrayed!

From chaste love’s hush of pink to heady rush
that’s shown by cardinal or crimson red,
the rose reveals the grades of ardor’s blush
unto the time it’s thought that passion’s fled.

But in the tint of amaranth, the fire
endures; in purple deep it can transcend,
while yellow blooms in bliss that does not tire,
and white’s fidelity will have no end.

Though black the bud, a red will grow thereof.
By any other name, the rose is love.

For the ROSES ROSES ROSES Poetry Contest of Mystic Rose

For PD's any rose will do. ....... (poems of roses contest) old only.... Poetry Contest

Details | Rose Poem | |

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 | Rose Poem | |

The Red Rose of the Moulin Rouge

I awaken; the darkened skies my alarm clock
I reek of whiskey, scotch and pastis
Tumbling out of bed, I reach for a cigarette
The dusk harkens as I rise to ply my trade

I am embodied inside a one room flat
The nightlife and the ladies both coming to life
Out the window I see the windmill so famous in red 
Ladies with offers, men with drinks, the recipe for lust

I am the mime of the Moulin Rouge
I ready myself with my white painted face
Tonight another performance or so it seems
I shall juggle my knifes, with my many sad faces

Up up up in the air, one, two, three
Knifes in a whirlwind of iconic display
Around and around like the Moulin Rouge
I perform, toss and catch to applause

My sad face bows in graceful acknowledgement 
As they toss their lose coins my way
If they see fit to fill my container of misery
I make for them my spectacular encore

I take a knife, a long black sharp blade
Tossed 12 feet in the air, dancing its way back down
As it slices the stem of a red rose in my hand
I now hand a pretty girl a cut rose

The ladies of the evening smile
They see I too traded romance for coin
How sad it is, this Moulin Rouge of dreams
Eleven more roses, and I shall earn my keep

Or so the ladies in red believe
I, on the other hand, will be changing the last act
I am tired of rent and being rented and rented cloth
I shall perform the ultimate act finale ce soir

Selecting the sharpest set of long fine knifes
Lighting them with orange flame, the juggling act begins
My audience enthralled, once again
Wondering maybe does he ever miss?

I never miss, I never shall, this is a certainty
The knifes a glow in fire, lighting the nighttime sky, 
Tossed high, I lie down fast, tossed a rose in the air
A Knife as usual cut the rose stem

One, two, three, the knifes enter my heart
The blood will warm the falling rose
As it gently falls upon my silent chest
I die with a smile, yes my final act a success
The rose so tender upon my breast








Breathless all, Gay Paris has died once more








I never miss
Yet, I miss you

Details | Rose Poem | |

Haiku 57 about the rose

wings flutter on a moist petal rose nectar

Details | Rose Poem | |

Rose and Rose Marie - A Re-post

‘Twas on a morn’ in early spring
When I met Rose Marie
In a garden
Where she sat - upon a bench
Beneath a willow tree

Where - with a glance
My heart was stabbed
With pangs of jealousy 
For it was  - very plain to see
She was - by far - more beautiful than me

She spoke -  with colored words - like rainbows
Spun with  threads of gold 
As she described the man she loved
With all her heart and soul

She told me - of his beauty
Raven hair and eyes of green 
And as she talked  - he appeared -  before me
As in a  -  living dream

She told me - how she met him
On the Shore of Evermore
There in the fields - above the cliffs
Amid the mist - an ocean roar

She told me how -  with their first kiss
He carried her away
As he poured his love - into her soul
There - so high above - that wind-swept bay
With Heaven  - but a breath away

Her words - like magic - in that moment
Cast a  spell on me
For I too now - had fallen - so deeply - in love
With Cannon Lee

I longed to feel his breath 
His lips upon my velvet skin
I longed to quench - the lustful thoughts
That now  burned  - so deep within

So - when Rose Marie - stood up to leave
And turned her back on me
I dug my thorns into her wrist
And  sealed - my evil deed

My jealousy - now turned to poison
Ran quickly through her veins
And as she tried - to pry me loose
I clawed her - once again

"Tainted blood" - is what they say
Stole his love away
And that is how - I came to be here
On these cliffs today.

So tenderly - he holds me now
And  finally kisses me
As his tears - fall on my open petals
And trickle  - down my leaves

Then - from his lips - there comes a cry
Of such despair - it cracks the sky
“ My darling - my love - my life 
Why did you have to die?”


And here so high - above these cliffs
These cliffs of ‘Evermore’
I hear her name - resounding -  above  the ocean roar
‘Rose Marie’ - ‘Rose Marie’
As he cast me  -  with a final kiss
Into the raging sea.

            ~~~
Author:  Elaine George