The Roses


I wanted to write a poem to see if I could “manage” it – most of my writings were articles or short stories and I wanted to “branch out” a bit and attempt a poem. I wanted to try and write a sort of archetypal poem, hence I chose to write about roses. I felt that this was one of the most archetypal imagery used in poetry and so I thought it would be a good place to start.

The roses


Softly spoke with flows and gestures

And silver dew that stayed upon,

Yet to brace the winter sun


Soon, they cried, we shall forgot

But twixt the twilight tide of night

We stand up tall and raised to fight

This Deathly Chill, with all our might

 

Yet brazen fires beneath moonlight

Still softly speaking in the breeze,

Do often wonder upon a star-

The unearthly fire of the heavenly pyre

Shooting upwards higher and higher

Never halting, ceasing to tire

In Rapture and Beauty set afire

 

Once they cried, we shall be forgot

And twixt the twilight tides of night

They stood up tall and raised to fight

But the Deathly Chill, proved all their might

 

Still they spoke with flows and gestures

But brazen fires once burning bright

Were encased eternal in translucent light.

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