The Murder of the Rose.

 

look sister, quick sister

do you see what I have wrecked?

by accident, sweet accident,

there I did it while clearing weeds

it was your flowers I was trying to protect.

 

stomp left, step right

there stood one magnificent flower

one rare rose (unpicked pride)

and the Bee hissed in my ear

the feeling of jealousy raged inside.

 

we stared each other down

the rare rose and I

it flawed no visible flaw

but the Bee breathed buzzing

and I felt the control before me.

raw.

 

Shamefully, I picked the rare rose

before its well deserved time

in its outstanding prime

my mind seasoned my fatal actions

to make believe. I pulled a weed.

No one would believe your rose was real.

And its murder was my gardener’s deed.

Author's Note

This poem was written in response of the novel/film Atonement by Ian McEwan. If you haven't read the novel or seen the film, this meaning will more than likely be lost on you.

Reviews

[Stammers]

there I did it while clearing weeds
it was your flowers I was trying to protect.

this sums the film up so well, alas I must digress rather guiltily I have not read the book, but I can say I thought the film was amazing, I sobbed even after we'd turned it off and someone flicked a rugby match on, maybe that's the teenage girl in me. Good response, well written, I esp liked the beginning.

[Amit Parmessur]

You write well.
I often browse the site here looking for talented voices, for the new magazine Golden Apple, of which I am one of the editors.

If you wish to be published in our future issues have a look at us:

http://goldenappleezine.blogspot.com/2010/10/submissions.html

We publish mostly poems and very short stories. There are no restrictions on style and subject matter as long as nothing offends.

Regards