if my soul ever wept like a rose
drunk on thornless scents ...
would you, O love ,
trace the lips of time ,
glazed with passionate patterns
of poison and starlight?
untying the rubies of romance ,
sleepless, infatuated ... with the flame
of your pensive pixie-fire ...
I long for you, to pulsate in lush lilac
as the sunset bleeds in your tattoos
dressed with tequila temptations,
read me ~ like a poem ~ laid bare
as I unfurl softly, a luna-pearl ...
lovesick .. in liquid pink lustre ,
dreaming of dulcet demons
in the kiss
left by leafy fingertips
of tie-dyed july ~
on my waning heart ...
Anticipants Roleplay
~*~for a~*~
Special Kudo’s Day
A heart-shaped box filled with an assortment of sweets
and a bouquet of a dozen thornless red roses, entreats
a sealed card for your eyes only, the unexpected reads
and places a card, a smile, and adds a kiss,' completes
Kid’s Play
~*~on~*~
This Day
There are two children who have fallen off their bikes
they are crying with boo-boo’s on their knees—yikes
as parents’ care, smiles go onto Facebook—get likes
Such A Fine Day
~*~come~*~
Be June Or May
An older adult seems a bit confused and needs help
I know my care home is near a cafe—let’s scan Yelp
By Babbet’s—That’s it, as the old adult pet his scalp
I know a flower of beauty rare
With powerful scent beyond compare
An exquisite flush
Of hot pink blush
Zephirine Drouhin I do declare
In hushed greenhouses, a marvel grows,
A pilgrimage for those who know:
A rose unmarred by nature's thorns,
Its beauty is pure, as morning dawns.
I dreamed of its stem, a silken cord,
Coiled gently around my hands, unexplored.
My garden once bristled with spiky guards,
Till obsession smoothed those prickly shards.
From root to tip, I bred them bare,
Strength redefined in petals fair.
If thorns meant power, then power's changed,
In vulnerability, strength rearranged.
This thornless bloom, a rare delight,
Wields beauty like a beacon bright.
Its petals unfurl, a gentle shield,
Revealing truths long concealed.
When touched, it stands, unharmed and tall,
A flower-warrior, breaking thrall
From old beliefs of strength through pain,
Its peaceful stance is a greater gain.
In dreams, I graft this wonder's stem
To roses in my garden's hem.
Together we walk through skeptics' sneers,
Our smoothness calms ancient fears.
Behold the power of gentleness,
In this rose's thornless dress.
A testament to nature's art:
True strength blooms from an open heart.
thornless roses bloom
the magnificence garden -
unique elegance
What is the plane on which we measure
One’s earthly pain and earthly pleasure?
For some will sooner have the latter,
Though pain’s what makes our pleasure matter.
A thorny rose may prick a finger,
But thornless roses hardly linger.
To have her sacred, satin pedal
God’s natural law we mustn’t meddle.
Perhaps the line is like an arrow,
While curved in flight, strikes straight and narrow.
How can we joy in God’s great treasure
Without our cries of pain and pleasure?...
Rose Meadow
Into a lovely enchantment I wander
Soft stardust sprinkles a meadow of night blooming roses
In perfumed hues of scarlet-rose and lavender-gold
Stretching out my cramped and cockled legs
Into thornless rhapsodies of drowsiness
In floral fields I embrace intoxicated reveries
Returning me to the fragile rose meadows
Of lyric verses that fall like velvet tresses
A dulcet supplication delicate as petals of a dreaming rose
When moonlight nectars drip with midnight’s invitation
Float into the lacy blush of dainty filigree shadows
Twine my sinuous spirit and chorded heart in dreams unity.
4/26/23
Cockled means crumpled, creased
Expecting a flood of love letters
as scribbling on a sheet of rosewater
the fragrance crushed earthy scent
a thornless moonlight rose
an aesthetic storm is brewing
beyond spiritual vitality flows.
Breaking down obstacles
It's because I don't fit into stereotypes
I intend to be myself on this journey
I'm not unique but I'm lacking wisdom,
Yes, I am a free spirit and a bold mind.
Indeed, I am eccentric and disorderly
I'm just rusty and dusty
I may fall, but I will always rise
If you talk easily, I laugh bitterly
I wish to be "me," despite my flaws.
Written: January 29, 2023
Here dwells a rose all may embrace,
a mystery well worth our time,
thornless rose, the essence of grace.
Here a spot, secured and sublime,
a Gardner unspeakably wise,
a mystery well worth our time.
Enter some blooms with odd disguise,
behold this garden’s rare design -
a Gardner unspeakably wise.
Planter engrafts them to His vine.
“Peace comes to them on quiet feet”
beholding garden’s rare design.
"The summer night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree
Peace comes to them on quiet feet"
Splendor’s commons where all agree
here dwells a rose all may embrace,
“With flowers on every tree,”
Thornless rose, the essence of grace.
June 1, 2021
Sponsor Joseph May
Contest Name Choose Your Form 2
I chose these lines from Sara Teasdale's poem, "But Not to Me"
changing her word, April, to summer.
"The April night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree
Peace comes to them on quiet feet"
Blackberries start as white dots in a sea of thorns
The flower will fade, and a green berry will join
Protected, it will grow and be pink
Safe from even a massacring mink
Larger, it will swell until it is red
No enemy can lay down their head
Darker and darker until it is black
The berries are ready for an attack
Sour, but delectable
The thorns are detectable
But what about the thornless blackberry bush?
Poor girl, she starts off white
Like the others that night
She grows into a misshapen berry
Unlike the others (who are), lucky? Very.
She stays as the others grow
Poor berry, behind she tows
The rest are protected by thorns of steel
But this poor one just needs a deal
From green to pink to red to black
The other blackberry is held far back
If only she could get some thorns
To protect her from the world's horns
The neglected female, without protection
Her parents have given her no love and affection
The other ones shall grow strong
Their parents are never gone
-September of 2020
thornless Rose
Beautiful roses
Void of thorns
Could life ever be
Free of thorns?
I'll just enjoy today
My 'thornless rose',
And leave tomorrow
For when it comes...
For Timothy Lee
I often lose my composure watching you near
for love as a muse stays our passion infused.
My insides ignite, deliciously alive
within sparks your persona designs.
Years of making love have not dimmed
the passion between our her and him!
Each day clarifies we made right choices.
We've bled from our share of thorns, but
being in your arms, more often than not,
is as a comfort bed of silky, thornless roses.
Shared years have not our appetite whet.
Our mutual longing grows stronger yet.
Any day reducing me to bruised or confused
may nighttime heal sleeping wrapped with you.
Love and lust both flame your ardor to ignite
and claim me in sighed, surrendering cries.
Your calloused hands are alpha paradise
on my thighs, your lips tantalize my layers.
Both my skin and mind intoxicatingly spin
making every care disappear somewhere.
My senses mesh elations while flesh bound
'til our capitulation and adoration sound.
GRANDPA’S NEW GARDEN
My grandpa had a garden and loved to watch things grow;
He kept it rich and fertile, and everyone I know
Would comment on his garden, the vegetables and flowers,
And how in it he labored for many joyful hours.
And when he reaped the harvest, he shared it generously
With those who came to purchase the things that you would see.
The days kept swiftly passing, and grandpa now was old,
But the stories of his garden were always new ones told.
And then the Master Gardener decided it was time
To plant him in His garden--to heaven he made his climb.
Like seeds now in his garden my grandpa’s lying there,
But I’m sure he is living up in those mansions fair.
And somewhere by a garden he sits for endless days
Admiring all its beauty and all its thornless ways.
When I get up to heaven, I know just where I’ll go:
Out to the nearest garden, for he’ll be there, I know.
I know he won’t be digging and laboring long and hard,
For he will be enthralled by this lush and fertile yard.
And now and then his Saviour with smile will pass him by
As he tends his new garden in his new home on high.
Dedicated to Melodie M. Davis, Harrisonburg, VA.
Life was good, just like food.
In the wood, I was in a good mood.
My body was fully cool like water in a pool
I was feeling in my divine kingdom.
Living an evocative and peaceful expedition.
I felt in paradise, and never dreamt dying alive.
Today, your mark in my heart has remained so smart.
Together, you used to force not to cause a faulter;
As smiles were abundant on your ruby lips.
As I smelt your aisles’ sweat, I died fell in emotion;
Both my ears were deafened by blind adventure.
Sometimes, I dream people face challenges.
Away from you, now the kingdom you expand.
Done with one King, you invite his princes,
An Emperor passing closer, you demand.
At night, I am awake thinking of the kingdom
Shattered and mishandled by unknown roitelets
The little tree is thornless, but it grows to produce some.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
Please, dear Sun, turn me
Into a thornless rose
Act a pain to one who
Close to me grows
I am tired of the days
I've had to keep my distance
From the other blossoms
As together they danced
I have had enough of
Every other bloom thinking
I have thorns because
My beauty striking
Cannot be plucked by any
Awe-struck, lowly mortal
That my thorns are a planned
Honey-coated betrayal--
No, I have thorns because
Of the fears that have raised me
Because my trust is as broken
As shattered glass can be
But I am a blossom as well
With hopes to be seen
For the beauty of my petals
Now what my thorns mean
So please, bright sun,
Take notice, too,
Destroy my thorns
And allow me to embrace you.
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