She Hated Roses







I bring lillies,

I know how deeply,

she hated roses -



their aromatic allure,

a facade, a pretense.



Bitter from years

of timely delivered bouquets,

each an offering,

she learned to loathe.



Roses that stung

with thorns of deceit,

seductively situated -

gift of the guilty.



I bring lillies,

subtly sensuous, stalwart stalks,

pale, satin perfection,

like her sleeping complexion.

Laying each blossom

to soften her scowl,

caress her acquiesed soul

in loyal linen white.



She hated roses.









Shirley Harshenin



(C) 2001, July 7



All Rights Reserved

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem was written as a 'challenge' using the line 'I bring lillies' as the opening line, and 'She hated roses' as the last lines. What do you think? ;-)

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Joe Logsdon's picture

Fucking perfect. Excuse the language. It's awesome, really great *claps*

Joe~

poetvg's picture

TIGHT ONE

Lori Moore's picture

This is excellent!