Because She Craved the Very Best

Because She Craved the Very Best by Michael R. Burch Because she craved the very best, he took her East, he took her West; he took her where there were no wars and brought her bright bouquets of stars, the blush and fragrances of roses, the hush an evening sky imposes, moonbeams pale and garlands rare, and golden combs to match her hair, a nightingale to sing all night, white wings, to let her soul take flight ... She stabbed him with a poisoned sting and as he lay there dying, she screamed, "I wanted everything!" and started crying. Keywords/Tags: Rose, Roses, Flowers, Materialism, Possessions, Shallow, Shallowness, Greedy, Greediness, Desire, Lust, Craving, Cravings, Gift, Gifts, Gift-Giving, Ingratitude, Ungrateful, Ungratefulness, Pomp, Circumstance What The Roses Don’t Say by Michael R. Burch Oblivious to love, the roses bloom and never touch . . . They gather calm and still to watch the busy insects swarm their leaves . . . They sway, bemused . . . till rain falls with a chill stark premonition: ice! . . . and then they twitch in shock at every outrage . . . Soon they’ll blush a paler scarlet, humbled in their beds, for they’ll be naked; worse, their leaves will droop, their petals quickly wither . . . Spindly thorns are poor defense against the winter’s onslaught . . . No, they are roses. Men should be afraid. The Monarch’s Rose or The Hedgerow Rose by Michael R. Burch I lead you here to pluck this florid rose still tethered to its post, a dreary mass propped up to stiff attention, winsome-thorned (what hand was ever daunted less to touch such flame, in blatant disregard of all but atavistic beauty)? Does this rose not symbolize our love? But as I place its emblem to your breast, how can this poem, long centuries deflowered, not debase all art, if merely genuine, but not “original”? Love, how can reused words though frailer than all petals, bent by air to lovelier contortions, still persist, defying even gravity? For here beat Monarch’s wings: they rise on emptiness!