How the rose got its thorns

How the Rose Got Its Thorns

 

                Once long, long ago, a time before men polluted the earth with their sinful ways, there was a lone flower. This wasn’t just any flower, but a rose. It was the only flower of its kind. The rose was extremely beautiful. Its petals were the exact shade of crimson that blood was. And the tips were a darker shade of red. A red that was almost black. The stem was the exact color of an unblemished emerald.

            One day, a woman walked into the field of grass where the rose lay. Her hair was blacker than a starless midnight sky. Her skin was as white as a porcelain doll’s. Her dress was made of the finest silk, and was tight around the bodice and waist, but fell loose around the hips. The train of the dress was pooled around her feet, which were as bare as a baby’s bottom.

            As she walked, she looked as though she were dancing, her feet moving gracefully over the grass, almost as if floating. When she arrived at the spot where the still unblemished rose lay, she stopped. She picked up the delicate rose and held it in her hand.

            Slowly, slowly, the petals grew darker until they turned black. Slowly, slowly, the petals grew brittle until they were uncomfortable to touch. Slowly, slowly, the stem went from being soft and smooth, to being course and had thorns on all sides. And slowly, slowly, in a crooning voice that could barely be heard, the beautiful woman in black whispered, “Never shall man with their sinful ways be allowed to touch something so beautiful.” And with that she set the once-beautiful rose down and danced her walk away.

            And from then on every rose that grew had prickly thorns on all sides, that made your fingers bleed at the touch. And like the woman in black said, no sinner ever got to touch something as beautiful as the single rose was.

            Even when they cut the thorns off, the rose’s petals were not the exact red shade of blood. The tips were not a red that was almost black. No longer were the stems the exact shade of emerald they used to be.  And no longer was the rose as beautiful as it used to be. It was beautiful yes, but  not even close to how beautiful it used to be. And that is how the rose got its thorns.

            Now some people may ask why exactly the woman in black did this. I could list a thousand reason why, but that would take forever and a day. So I shall only list a few.

The first and foremost reason, she was not a sinner. She didn’t get why humans couldn’t not sin. She didn’t get that it wasn’t possible for us not to sin. She thought that we chose to sin. And for that she took the one thing she thought was perfect, and  destroyed it.

The second reason, the woman in black was a greedy, selfish woman. She liked to keep things all to herself. And when she saw that no one had seen the beautiful �"perfect- rose, she kept it to herself. Even though she didn’t physically keep it, she was the only person who saw it, and that was good enough for her.

            The third and final reason (that I’m listing), The woman in black wanted to keep the rose for herself. She wanted the one thing on our sinful earth that was perfect in her opinion. But she didn’t take it. Why didn’t he take it? The answer to that is simple. If she had taken it, it would hold no worth. The sinful humans on earth would never have even known it existed. And so she left it, dead.

             

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

The poem is amazing. The story of the rose was will written with a outstanding story. Each part made the story come to life and the ending was very good. I like this poem a lot. The print was hard for my old eyes to read. A excellent poem.
Coyote