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Welcome to UnKnOwN.BlOg
Tuesday, December 16, 2008Y
Studies of a Rose..


Red like crimson fire

Black like withered hearts grown dire

Velvet, soft to the touch

Brittle, turning to dust in ones clutch

Wild, coursing free

Contained, held for all to see

The eternal symbol of lust

The eternal symbol of death

The cliché of a life time

The lovers’ gift

The widows’ bequest

Written about in masterpieces

Painted in variations

A symbol of peace

Sharp and jagged

A prick brings forth

The crimson liquid

Flowing out, coating the object

Melding with the color, masking the scent

Poison transferred through barriers

Dropping to the floor

Pedals falling

Sway down to the beat of a heart which beats no more

Thorns sticking the ground like a readied arrow

Innocent and perilous it lays waiting

Its next victim

Its next fatality

By any other name it still smells as sweet

Greeting the death you will meat

This flower, this blossom

This Rose


ends at 11:45 PM