deepundergroundpoetry.com
Rosebud
From seed to sprout
I flew and grew
All my petals I hued,
but I knew
Oh, I knew...
Such a bitter morning's dew
which glued to my color
stole my sweet, tender fume
until I felt shifted
with blame.
Those flames which
called me names,
caught my gazes
and blew me through
fazes of mazes;
took my petals
to the strangest of places.
In my wilting sorrow, I hated
and no longer bloomed
but faded.
You cut my root
and left the heat of my rosebud
shaded.
I flew and grew
All my petals I hued,
but I knew
Oh, I knew...
Such a bitter morning's dew
which glued to my color
stole my sweet, tender fume
until I felt shifted
with blame.
Those flames which
called me names,
caught my gazes
and blew me through
fazes of mazes;
took my petals
to the strangest of places.
In my wilting sorrow, I hated
and no longer bloomed
but faded.
You cut my root
and left the heat of my rosebud
shaded.
Published 7th Mar 2017
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7th Mar 2017 10:06pm
12th Mar 2017 00:13am
11th Mar 2017 8:13pm
your poem has a flair of Emily Dickinson;
here's one of hers called 'Proud of My Broken Heart':
Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it.
Proud of the pain, I did not feel? till thee.
Proud of my night, since thou, with moons, dos't shake it.
Not to partake thy passion, -my humility
Thou can'st not boast, like Jesus, drunken without companion
Was the strong cup of anguish brewed for the Nazarene
Thou can'st not pierce tradition with the peerless puncture,
See! I usurped thy crucifix to honor mine!
...
here's one of hers called 'Proud of My Broken Heart':
Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it.
Proud of the pain, I did not feel? till thee.
Proud of my night, since thou, with moons, dos't shake it.
Not to partake thy passion, -my humility
Thou can'st not boast, like Jesus, drunken without companion
Was the strong cup of anguish brewed for the Nazarene
Thou can'st not pierce tradition with the peerless puncture,
See! I usurped thy crucifix to honor mine!
...
12th Mar 2017 00:13am
