icemoon

I tended the only black rose in my garden
when she began to die,
i offered my heart to the wind
for an immortal incantation,
i prostrated before the stars
to grant my flower a pardon,
the bitter breeze blew
far and wide ignoring me,
the stars shone on indifferently,
i communed with the nightingales
for the power of their song,
they sang for my rose
all season long,
my flower blossomed and
survived the winter snows,
my beautiful black rose
now grows in my soul.

Baron

I suppose that spraying for greenfly would have killed the poetic muse...

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icemoon

do you have anything interesting to say?anything constructive at all?

mAMBOkING

for some reason, dark and nightime imagery always suck me in. the imagery you use paints the picture clear, and i liked the transition of the rose from actually living to living in your soul. theres nothing really wrong here, in my opinion. it just isn't as powerful as it should have been, but i liked the last part alot. leaves an impression