Eve Roper Poet Roundel

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Rose Poetrysoup Avatar

A rose, another name for a rose, 
sublimely gifted artist, honest, 
time-worn, blithely unseen season grows. 

Me, who is more than mother dearest? 

Meager cutting from bouquet I chose; 
religious, tattered and quite modest 
as an innocent child blindly goes. 

Changing poet of verse and of prose.
Rose, I chose, ilk sounds in the forest. 
A rhythmic mundane poetic pose.

Me, who is more than mother dearest?

2/10/2019

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M. L. Kiser February 14, 2019 at 9:07 AM Excellent verse: Meager cutting from bouquet I chose; religious, tattered and quite modest as an innocent child blindly goes. " Great imagery.

Constance La France February 13, 2019 at 9:36 AM Eve, this is lovely. For me a red rose represents eternal love and I bring red roses to my beloved that are now mere names engraved. Eve Roper February 13, 2019 at 4:51 PM Your words are always poetic even in norm conversation Hugs

Harry Horsman February 10, 2019 at 4:44 PM Beautifully written, a miniature classic

Silent One February 10, 2019 at 4:40 PM You are the rose of poetry soup...

Michelle Faulkner February 10, 2019 at 3:50 PM Such glorious prose for your avatar rose, love it!