Short Rosettes Poems

My Floribunda
Rosettes apricot and peach
My garden angel...

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Turquoise boots with rosettes feeling snappy today
Sassy, and sexy, as they prance dance your way
Along with the ruffled short skirt we give a sashay
Me and my owner, little Miss Debbie Lou Kay...

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Bright young things
the class of 2019
Tories with their fresh rosettes
they said they could level up the Red Wall
now bide their time to forgotten promises
in their brazen suites
lost chance saloon in a cavalier fashion
ill affording suffragette society
look at them in their run in
Labour ushers a bravo return,
The Reform party
picks up on the crumbs
of discontent...

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The exorcists were taking him
to pyre,
after eating the pollens,
the pistils,
columns of culture,
rosettes of centuries,
collapsed tropes.

Solid thorns were piercing the eyes
to cleanse the vision
of color-blinds.
It was the morphed sex
of a virgin goddess
humming to cool
the hot caresses.

Arousal of sleeping dragons,
promiscuity,
wood roses,
proactive subjects popping up,
which was it, besides bread and butter,
beds, only beds?
A semi-boiled love?


SATISH VERMA...

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