In the name of the rose

Rose, more rose for the play

Rose I rose mo(re )rose to pray

Rose I budded, rose to obey

Rose I fell, on my feet, I, prey

3 October 2010


We are all roses and all we can hope

From bottomless pits, where we lie

that we do not get pulled by a rope

just to be left out to wither and die.


My rose of anguish

My rose to vanquish

My rose not selfish

My rose was elfish


The play I’d like in some love’s scope

I’d paint my toenails, paint them high

So they’d appear on love’s periscope

I’d be love’s colours, to paint and sigh


My rose in colours

My rose just stutters

My rose love utters

My rose in clutters


I’d paint for when I should be plucked,

Then I will will and I would and I would

but if I’d be that but to be blood-sucked

I’d balk yet again I should and I should


My rose stays haughty

My rose dreams potty

My rose thinks mighty

My rose not almighty


Alas my scent would go oh so wasted

For to be yet a mere object to present

Like the bittersweet I so often tasted

That play I would much direly resent


My rose in tatters

My rose chatters

My rose splatters

Red ink’s matters


Not a tidbit but grand banquet feasted

Would allow it to bring my heady scent

Or I would have been sad grey pasted

For in my life, colours would be absent


My rose rings

My rose sings

My rose brings

Coloured wings


Oh but to know rather than go ducking

Missing light in such a fathomless being

Oh but to think it was heaven’s plucking

and not play and not a mere sightseeing


To be Rose of a day

But be Rose of a play

My roots are all away

My heart does decay


Some with us compose an eternal scent

My life scent would not wilt, wither away

and others with us, hasten our descent

as another Rose mo(re)rose for the play


My rose morose

My rose to dose

My rose to doze

Dead rose of course

Death ro(ws)(se) of course


Reading of my poem on youtube


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