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On Beauty

My love of Beauty, nurtured through the years,     

Of form and fair proportion’s served me well.    

Yet often I ask: where does my true love dwell?   

Within my soul; this heart; these eyes; or ears? 

Does she conduct the music of the spheres? 

Or, sit in silence sweet on Lakeland fell? 

Are roses’ heavenly scent bound by her spell?    

Her spirit surely lives in all...

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Double Haiku -النكبة an-Nakbah

Portrait of feminist and labor union leader Rose Schneiderman (1882 - 1972). Credit: Interim Archives/Getty Images

From the frying pan

Of lying thieving scumbags,

To Tory-lite fire;

The tool-maker’s son,

Palestine’s blood on his hands,

Purging our Red Rose.

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As a twiggy little boy of 9,

I was so curious

About the bumblebees hovering

Over blood-red roses, flesh-pink roses,

Bushes filled with pale-yellow honeysuckles

That grew in my Grandmother's yard.


So curious, when I reached out to touch one,

That bumblebee stung me with its

Needlelike tail, leaving behind a mark,

Swollen red, painful,

On the caramel ...

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Bumblebeeschildhood memoriesroseshoneysucklesspecies extinctiondisappearance of bees



Pruned, miniature, shrub, bush or tree

climbing, rambling, wild, growing free

A natural beauty, with a heavenly bouquet

a gift of celebration for that special day

A silent token, that can represent so much

petals like velvet, soft and gentle to touch

Each colour signifies its own special meaning

a show of emotion and how we are feeling


Romantic red, a passionate l...

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Dead Roses

Dead are the roses that you sent to me 
The words you said as well 
Everyone said to me you'd put me through Hell 

Gone the Memory of your kiss on my waiting lips 
Why you went away I don't understand 
Was my love not enough for you in dear the end 

They say for everybody one true love exists 
How could you make my heart bleed 
Was it just lust you felt for me, born out of greed 


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Rosesdead roses

Garden Greed

The rose recognizes the beauty of the sunflower, all the while self-assured in her own. She does not envy the golden beauty for her appeal to you


She knows better - she has guarded her stem from the likes of your fingers and the fingers of those before you, and the ones that will come after


She knows that while you, selfishly and ignorantly, believe the garden to be created for you...

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gardengreedroserosessunflowerbeautyself esteemSelf-WorthPurposecreatecreationgrowthwomanwomenwomens rightswomans issuesfeministfeminism

Raising a Rose

With the first and potentially only tattoo

I celebrate this wet dark blue

With sleeves exposed to the moon

Don't you dare judge me, this art isn't for you...


Like ink on skin and ink on paper

This is my own creation

A red rose with a blue stem wraps around my arm

So that when we shake hands you see one piece of a bouquet

And I tell you something poetic like, 


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Sub Rosa

Where once her warm and sanguine heart

fell ashen grey to rest in cold base dirt

high over the familiar bush and shrub

proud crimson blooms pine for love  


Where their sacred beauty sings to my heart

they call forth the lovely nightingale

high in their cloudless summer sky

to sweetly sing their longing song


There, I too confess a secret yearning

silent hidden d...

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Rose Colored Reality

Too much reality 
can burn a hole
through your soul.

I prefer to temper it
with rose colored glasses,
as you know.

With my glasses on
I can see past the ego
to the wounds at
war within.

I can see that the
past, present, and
future are all 
an illusion...

created for one purpose

to tell the story
of how we want to 
show up in this world. 

I can see beyond 

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despairdestinydivisionegofatefuturelifelovepastpresentpurposerealityresistancerose colored glassesrosessoulstorystorytelling

The Bench

I sit outside the door

on a slate bench

my back against the cottage wall

in the evening sun

listening to a blackbird sing

the most astonishing sweet notes

In front of me

there is elderflower


buttercups spangle the uncut grass

and the old larch looms in its corner

beyond the ancient stones of Hafod

which mark my plot

The sun has not long returned


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Random Hero

The only person who can save me

is me

A Random Hero wont set me free

Violets are blue

Its time for you to save you

Mentalities can't fly

Yours wont admit defeat

Not that I ever wanted you to lose

But, my grasp is still so weak


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we move in silence
the yellowing
age of the roses
continues with the tide

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Roses - NaPoWriMo Day 10

Roses are dead,

they smell like Le Pew.

But they still smell sweet

compared to you.


Roses are dead,

now you feel blue.

So take a shot neat,

and uncork the screw.


Roses are dead,

our hopes are too.

You were a cheat,

but I was too.

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Pepe Le PewPepeLe PewPewWarners BrothersWarner BrosWarnerBrosBrothersRosesUnlovePoemPoetryParodyCheatVodkaDrinkDeadNaPoWriMo

Easter Feaster

Roses are red?

No they're not!

They're an assorted mix bag of browns.

Cocoa, caramel, mocha and mousse.

Tasty truffles a treat for the tongue,

not just for Easter

but all year long.

Buy em on Easter Monday if you're skint

reduced price,

full taste,

eat my body weight in Lindt.

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