The Dilemma of Roses

The rose, having
no longer
place to go…
for even, outside the gardens,
the wild well knows
that beauty, uncultivated,
never grows….
One does not use
soil tilled
by a scalpel;
and bodies of
unborn
to fertilize…
such eyes
cannot blossom
(though the shape
of bulbs)
nor ever produce
for the nose
one fragrance
divinely
pleasing….
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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Andresen Avatar
June 25, 2016 at 2:20 PM
- A rose beauty is almost divine even with its sharp thorns, a great poem Joe - Best wishes for a lovely weekend - hugs // Sun :)
Capitano Avatar
June 12, 2016 at 6:56 AM
Fabulous work Joe; the rose, a symbol of beauty and blood.
DiMino Avatar
June 12, 2016 at 9:27 AM
Isn't that the truth...just like people, not so bad when we keep our own and that of others on the inside. The blood that is.... Thank you my friend. Have a great day!
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