Red Fiery Rose
by Lisa Canfield
Your thorns are barbarians!
Your flower heads purge.
Cluster of ruffles – ruby red.
Fiery temper, ablaze and surge!
Nothing less then malicious
When gardened by hand.
You scar and bleed
You blaspheme and damn.
You fade not and gone
Rather you giant up more!
As your raise your barbwire
Cutting through; scalpel
Through the blue sky floor.
You prick and needle
You lion, and roar.
In exile and venom,
You inflict and soar!
Rose, evil rose;
There is no beauty, in your rose red.
You only give pain
In the company,
Of your promiscuous bed.
volume 12(9)
May 1, 2008
This poem is copyright © 2007,
Lisa Canfield, all rights reserved.
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