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Barosus — Black Roses
#literature #pain #poem #poetry #roses #survivor #balckroses #overcomingthepast #replypoem #movingpon
Published: 2018-08-02 10:38:45 +0000 UTC; Views: 4558; Favourites: 15; Downloads: 0
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Description
The black roses flower so gloriously
Her knees were stained from tending dark soil
Composted carefully from bitter pains ground fine
In a barrel of seasons spun round over years
And moldering bones of lies turning to lye
Roots quest deeply into the sandy well
The gardener smiles at me strangely
As I nod approvingly at her handiwork
The black fragrance whispers vindication
Her watering can is full of tears stained tannic black
Collected from broken promises, slowly filtered pure
Over a burning flame of righteous indignation
Ancient fertilizer of memories burnt to ash
The vines embrace the stony walls of the well
The gardener learned the secrets to make
Her black roses bloom in vigorous freedom
The black thorns sparkle like dangerous truths
Her gloves bear the scars of prickles that drew blood
Pruning promotes growth but requires expert cutting
At her side she gathers a fresh bouquet of dreams
Stunning evidence of new horizons blooming
The black roses boldly declare, “It is well.”
The sparkle in her eyes speaks more than words
And I am in awe and inspired by her dark idiom
©All original work copyright Edward D Cates 2018
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Comments: 25
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Yeah. Sadly although Maggie came into my life like a supernova exploding and kind of blew me away. She hasn't posted anything in a LONG time now. I worry she went back into hiding. I will admit that I worry I might have contributed to making this place uncomfortable for her. All we ever did was right poetry together, BUT it was the TYPE of poetry that was wrong. It was REALLY great erotic poetry, but basically I should never have gone there in the first place, regardless of what excuse I used.
I was very up front with Maggie from the beginning that i had no actual romantic intentions toward her. She and I knew that, but try telling your wife after the fact that writing erotic poetry with another woman is merely and intellectual exercise. I can tell you right now that it doesn't work at all.. There were hurt feelings all around.
I was just really curious about whether or not I could write good erotic poetry. You see my wife DOESN'T really like erotic poetry. I wrote her a couple and she made me promise not to write her any more. I guess I was feeling a bit repressed by that. Maggie came along and just challenged me to cut loose and see what i could do.
In retrospect I should have said no, but part of me had been held back from expressing myself in verse for so long that I went for it. My god, it was liberating; stupid and wrong, but gloriously freeing. But yeah, I crashed and burned HARD afterwards. Which just goes to prove that just because you can do something (and even do it well) does not mean you should.
"Cairn of Regrets" was written about the fallout from that debacle. I ended up deleting almost all of the 9 poems i had written because of Maggie and hid all of the original comments where the rough drafts were. What else could I do? If you are curious about how steamy it got, Maggie ended up reworking hers into one long deviation and credits me as the inspiration. here -
Leanan's Lure
With all my lithe linguistics I am still struck dumb, unable to describe this possession of mind and body where I am balanced on the thinnest cold steel blade. Severed from reality to roam free yet bound like quarks; we know fulfillment and hunger at the same time.
The sight of you stimulates like cold fingertips on warm skin, urging my cells to wake up and pay heed, and they do. Blood rushes like spring rivers engorged by the melting snow of faraway peaks to flood my ceiling skin, colouring me from the inside out as it surges mutinous, just to know a moment on your lips.
Beads of intent swell on your skin, run in rivulets that beg my eyes to follow, mapping my desire; anticipation sitting sweet on lips and limbs as I am pinioned by the spinning magneto of our polarities. I pull in close behind you and slipped my arm around to take measure of your need. Can you feel my warmth against your back, my mouth to your ear as I
Mine were equally steamy, although less blatantly about sex. I tried to keep mine more about the ecstatic feeling of finding such a skillful verbal dance partner. I still think about putting them back up. Her poetry is freaking amazing, and I was massively flattered that she felt the same way about mine. She was my Leanan Sidhe. I introduced her to the concept and she loved it as much as I did. As is often the case in such an explosive chemistry as we shared, it blew up in our faces, and now she is not active on here anymore. T^T
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The connection from MaggieLawson 's piece to this is mesmerizing.
The amount of imagery you convey leaves the reader enchanted throughout the poem. Again, you have an amazing capacity for words that flow so beautifully and find purpose. It's almost a declaration of beauty found in something so tortured, but reborn. Simply lovely.
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Pinky!!! Obviously your words flow pretty brilliantly as well, especially if flattering the heck out of me was what you were going for. Thank you so so very much.
I am particularly proud of that one. Thank you for taking time to look at it for me. I know you are busy as well. What you described was indeed exactly what i was going for. Maggie's story is simultaneously tragic and inspirational. What she has overcome is amazing.
She has been a good friend to me since we met last year, but I didn't know about her past till much more recently. When I read her bold declaration not to be held in bondage to her scars I knew I had to add my own hearty "amen" to it.
Black Roses was my attempt to declare my enthusiastic support of all her goals. I put a lot into this one. It wasn't just a quick free verse piece. I pulled out all the stops. Even my sister (the lit phd) applauded the innovative structure, and she knows poetry WAY better than I do. I basically only started seriously doing it last year.
To have another writer like you give me such a glowing review means a tremendous amount to me. Thank you so much!
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You are very welcome. This piece certainly deserves praise. Even from a literary genius like your sister. 
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Again there is tension and empowered twists in every time the lines change (excuse my luck of proper expression)
It is remarkable though that this poem has a strong essence of the well known Norwegian writer's book "the pan" who is Knut Hamsun when he narrates the object of his interest. A very powerful creation and it gives vibes of trembling stars on the night as I progressively read it!!!
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If you make me swell my chest out much further i am going to throw my back out. LOL Thank you again so much! You are a treasure. I love that emoticon you used. I haven't seen that one before. I actually use the Onion ones you use in your gallery quite a lot though. Um, I do have to admit that I really don't know any Norwegian books or authors. I am a "dumb American" who only speaks english and, as Doctor Strange so aptly said, "I am fluent in google translate." But after seeing your amazing comments, I can attest to the fact that you have nothing to fear in the "proper expression" department.
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Don't worry on knowing the writer, I was ignorant too before finding by devilish chance an important person's diary and travelling into their labyrinth of mind. It is a beautiful mind tour though. I was in tears both for literature and musical preferences but I don't ever talk about this Person. Fact of the matter is i was given answers.
If only you knew what a struggle it is to remember but the beautiful compartment is a beautiful pay back,talking about the way my memory works.that's why I keep drawing.
Everyone uses the translation service Google provided with. I have a big love for translators and the exceptional use of English,the way you do use them let's say.no matter how hard i try i cannot put my racing thoughts into words...so when I'm remembered it's a mixed feeling.but I'm proud of the substance and mixed creation I am,serving the aching universe and the big Eye of sequence beautifully or not...all I'm trying is to never ever dessert people and make sure I make them understand they are beautiful and that they are a treasured gift.I've known the pain of being disheartened and malphrased,ripped from the flower root.you are suggested to listen to the Alien by Die Antwoord which was devoted to me during night walks before the dawn. Beautiful memory.
Strange that life's pattern and how the puzzle is aput together is.
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I feel very much the same way. many of my poems are reply poems written to try to uplift and encourage someone after I saw a comment or a work from them that felt sad and hopeless. I want to be that lighthouse saving lost ships from being wrecked on the rocks in the stormy seas of life. I want everyone to feel loved, appreciated and respected, because each and every person is a unique and irreplaceable treasure. It is always great to find another person who feels the same way. We are all the stuff of stardust and rainbows and everyone deserves to be embraced and respected. If I can say something to brighten a sad persons day even a little, it is my joy ot do so.
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This is great,blessed are the people around you!
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Hopefully that includes you too now. XD
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Ohhh Barosus, how you honour me and my journey! Thank you so much for this beautiful piece.
Most of all, I am delighted that my poem was read as it was intended: A funeral pyre for the pain that has weighted my wings for so long, tethered me to the actions of others.
Thank you so very much.
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I have been waiting like a child on Christmas Eve to get your response to this! I felt like shouting "YES!" ecstatically when I finally saw it in my inbox. Your story touched me so deeply I just felt I REALLY needed to pull out all the stops.
While this is free verse, it is also very highly structured, with each successive stanza mirroring the first. You can see that particularly well with the first and last lines of each starting with something about a black rose and ending with something about a well. It was deliberate. I really went all out with this one, and I truly think it is one of my best works. My only regret is that unless people go to read yours first, they won't understand how it all plays off of the metaphoric imagery you established.
You talked about how the flowers you would plant in that well that became you oubliette would bloom and smell sweet. I wanted to present that scene fully realized, as if as I was walking by on the street I came upon you tending those flowers. As I looked on from the sidewalk, I could see you with your pruning shears in hand on a midsummer's day in your verdant garden of freedom. Next to you would be your crowning achievement, the well itself now covered in an explosive profusion of deep black trailing roses.
Perhaps as a friend and confidant, who knew the history interred in that well, I wouldn't need to say a word, just smile at you with gentle knowing a nod of approval. Your return smile is far more complex and subtle, speaking of a depth of knowing that I could never fathom, but also gratitude for that silent acknowledgement or what those flowers of new hope cost to grow. The best I as an outsider could hope for is to honor the heroic achievement. Those roses represent the sacrifices of years and anguish, and the valiance of a conquering spirit that overcame those chilling depths.
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Exceptional read Edward, I loved reading this one where you have personified a black rose with the pain, sadness and everything else dark in one's heart and it made me wonder "how would a black fragrance smell like?"
But these first few lines really struck me the most:
The black roses flower so gloriously
Her knees were stained from tending dark soil
Composted carefully from bitter pains ground fine
In a barrel of seasons spun round over years
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Thanks, Amber. You are starting to compete with my mom for the position of my greatest literary fan.
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Definitely not Ed, no one can compete with a Mother!
Is just the truth, and you are most kindly welcome.
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Yeeeeeeah. I'm sure you are right about that. However it sometimes FEELS like more when it comes from someone else. We kind of knew ahead of time that our moms are going to love it, maybe even if they don't like it they will love it for our sakes. So when someone who hasn't raised us from the womb loves something we do, we know it is not just because they are seeing it through rose colored lenses. So in my book the rivalry is pretty close. XD
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You've written it very beautifully Ed, a compliment received by someone you never expect from makes one glowing/blushing differently than from the ones you know will love anything and everything about you no matter what....
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Wow! This stanza especially, almost brought me to tears... so wonderfully crafted by Truth:
"The black fragrance whispers vindication
Her watering can is full of tears stained tannic black
Collected from broken promises, slowly filtered pure
Over a burning flame of righteous indignation
Ancient fertilizer of memories burnt to ash
The vines embrace the stony walls of the well"
A very emotive piece celebrating our mutual friend, and her amazing strength, and spirit! !!!
(I myself have yet to get on my desktop, in order to "heart" the video...as sound on my laptop is broken... I think a part of me was honestly scared to... But now, I must. )
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Thanks so much, Linda! I can't wait to hear Maggie's reaction. I hope she loves it even more. I was feeling particularly inspired last night it seems. I poste two new poems, a collaboration and started on chapter 16 of the Llama Files. I didn't get any comments answered though.
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