Roses ask to
be left alone, undesirous of mother hen
No wish for
replanting, not wanting transplanting
Roses
protest hair fluffing and chin wiping
The
suffocating breath of fuss
Finger-trigger
happy
Clip-tomania,
cutting, stealing, trimming, shaving, potting
Roses seek
planned ignoring
Not to be
grafted, not to be cloned
Roses tire
of persistent display of affection
Sick
whispering sweet nothings
Being talked
to death, sick of pruned and primed
The vying
for beauty contests
My
clip-tomanic attention
Neither seeking
nor craving obsessive pampering of
lonely hearts
of humanhood
Protesting
tender love and care
Thus
rejected, I channel clip-tomania
Dangerous
weeds choking beauty need hacking
They deserve
no tender loving care
--My dream has loved paper so much for so long because it gave influence to the parched voice of a fashionista poet. Finding this outlet, that voice is now replete with expressive sound.
2 comments:
Your descriptions always blow me away. How do you think of this? I love roses but have never been too successful with growing them...
Lynne, thank you so much for the compliment. Coming from the published author you are, it means a lot.
You should visit my Facebook pages. They are chuck full of my roses and pictures that show both my green thumb and my obssession.
1. http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.3412736570355.147219.1628275282&type=3
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2. http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.2333760676632.125580.1628275282&type=3
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