rkstar

I write poems about flowers - some of them are pretty dorky - and I'm okay with that. This one's almost in iambic octameter, but not quite. It has 8 syllables per line, but the meter is a bit off in the third verse. I care more about saying what I want to say and getting that across anyway.

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But he that dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose. - Anne Bront

"Rose"

A craven poet writes of a rose.
Petals, scent and briery thorn -
Veneer for words feared to disclose,
For dread of a beloved's scorn.

How mundane to write of roses.
Luscious flower, incarnadine -
All have heard these clichd proses.
She deserves something far more keen.

Fairly named Snow White and Rosered,
Dear angels of the Brothers Grimm.
Gothe too, wrote of a rosebud red.
None since have writ the rose with vim.

Woe to me, then, and woe to you,
As we cannot escape this trap.
Because for you I must construe,
You are my rose, and I'm a sap.
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Alcohol* and cigars. It's a good thing.

*Red wine, single malt scotch, bourbon, rye, gin or dark beer. It all works.