Beside the stout portcullis grows
a barely open crimson rose
awaiting that one perfect nose.
Each day as folks commiserate
like cattle plodding through the gate
this lonely flower stays sedate,
for destiny will soon appear:
a suitor smiling ear to ear
to clip a dashing boutonniere,
perhaps a buxom maiden fair
will shyly pluck with tender care
a blossom for her flowing hair.
It happens to the most sublime
so many dreams, so little time
as blushing pride succumbs to rime.
Are You Reading Me?
8 comments:
A rose by any other name... You've outdone yourself this time, Bob. The rhyming triplets rattle the reader giving pause and making one think rather than simply rattling off the rhymes. I'm impressed.
AH Just so. Another fine blossom in the bouquet that is your blog. I can just about picture you with a horse and carriage, finely waxed moustache, taking the very lucky Mrs Bob out for a spin. Sehr romantic.
(Makes one forget about the awfulness of pruning)
Oh man, what can I say that would outshine Glenn's comment? Your chariot awaits...and please give my best to the lucky Mrs. Bob! :)
Hi Billy, thanks a lot. I had to change a couple words in the first verse to tie in to the title better.
Yes Glenn, it's true I wax daily! (my mustache that is) Thanks.
Thank you Shirley, you're too kind as usual. And really thanks to all three of you for your great comments and generosity, I appreciate it more than my cheesy words can say! 8^D
Billy is absolutely correct about the effect of the rhyming triplets - very appropriate for the overall message of this piece... makes the reader slow down and pay attention. Nice.
waltz. this poem dances. thank you for sending it to billy for the ringing of the bards. what a lovely poem, more people ought be exposed to it.
Ahhh...a waltz. What a great way to describe this one. I'm glad to see you getting more exposure as well.
Happy Writing,
Shirl
A poem as lovely as the rose it depicts
And as sincere as the one to pluck said rose for love...
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