This is Not a Love Poem

inspired by a poem by a fellow independent poet in our city

Dear friend, bring me the roses

she said were wrong for the table,

not right for the house; troubling

for the wrong impression

they might leave like so many

insinuations of things nice people

simply do not think about.

 

Bring them to me, I will set them

proudly in cut glass or carved stone

in my kitchen; if anyone asks, I will say,

they are from a friend, and mean it.

I will say, they are from a dimension

where there is no right or wrong

kind of beauty and nobody is ashamed

to say “I love something about you”

to the person who last inspired you.

 

Bring me roses; I will honor them

because from you, words are flowers

and roses are poetry. Red is simply

one of many colors in Life and it has been

too long since any man thought to bring me

red roses, so carry them to my house.

I am a woman whose presence

makes tides rise and countries

reconsider their borders; it cannot matter

much what others think

 

because the impression I leave is almost

the wrong one anyway.

So bring me roses, any color,

any day- forget her.

I will sit and laugh with you; we can

count the hours until someone thinks

I am your lover because I wrote this

for you (I am not- I am just a woman

who loves flowers and appreciates

any man, who brings them).

 

 

Author's Note

for Carlos. translated from my original written in Spanish

Reviews

[Fairytale]

Amazing wording, just wow. I am a beginner at poetry, as can be seen from my post Revenge, and I wish to someday write like you, amazing job.