Rose Quadrille – for DVerse

I wore a rose
High at my throat
Loving to catch
The scent of it
From time to time

And then you tore
It from me, as
If I’d stolen it
And crushed it
With your angry feet

And now the scent
Sickens me.


Bjorn is tending the bar at¬†the poets’ pub¬†tonight and is asking for quadrilles with the word “rose” in them.

You should take a look at what’s happening over there.

NaPoWriMo 8 – flowers. Number 2.

The Rose

A rose is almost human –
I mean, we’ve made it so –
An endless metaphor
For skin, for lips, for secrets.
A breast is a rose, and a mouth,
And a baby’s hand
Is a rose unfurling.

The colours of the rose are human
And the language of the rose is love –
Love pure, love passionate, love undying –
Even as the petals brown and splay
They offer up their scent.

You can get drunk on roses
An excess
Of perfume, and of love.