Rose my Beloved


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ah you bastard flower

that stings

with thorns of scorn

this rose

a spiral curl of pose

beneath

you carry weapons that steal

a drop of blood

for those who think to pluck your blooms

so be that

bleed

In the blood

of the red rose

love is not enough

unless written in prose

the pain

of sorrow

loss

and woe

pressed

in pages of time

bruised

in the rubble

of the broken

bleeding hearts

of the beloved

red rose

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4 thoughts on “Rose my Beloved

  1. The poem resembles the trickling down of blood from the cut from the thorn ending with bleeding hearts from the red rose. A wonderful descent.

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    • ThankQ Louis for giving the beez a buzz here đŸ˜‰ Its so cool to get a response and Yes you get the fall of the rose :)) petals softly blown your way filling your senses with the ole world of the rose perfume b x

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    • ThankQ for your support your sharing spirit of my poetry I am very grateful it is so lovely to look on your blog and see that someone has liked your poem and takes the time to give comment ;)) always beez x

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