Rose Warrior

Rose Warrior

A Poem by Writer #00

Rose Warrior 

 

Even though you've gone

And a tombstone marks your spot

Roses hold your life

 

Like red reminders

They bloom brightly 'bove your grave

Mem'ries flood my mind:

 

Of your glowing eyes

Of your shining, snow-glare smile

Of your trenchant wit

 

Of your artistry

Of your imagination

Of your heartfelt words

 

Unceasing kindness

Selflessness akin to Christ’s

Compassion for All

 

All the life of earth

Of Nature's divinity

Of the basest of worms

 

Trapped in their own thorns

Ensnared by careless actions

No fault you produced

 

Yet you were chiv'rous,

You took possession of pain

That was not your own

 

With your rose-red blade

You cut away prick'ly chains

Freeing the ensnared

 

You longed to free "All";

But this was impossible

And you died trying

 

All the thorns pierced you

Driving themselves through your heart

Leaving a martyr

 

Your blood pooled and sunk

Dripping through the rich, black earth

And Nature drank it

 

It became sated,

Bloated on the nutrients

Of your crimson blood

 

'Til it was so full

It regurgitated you

Where I'd left you last

 

I came ev'ry day

For many weeks, many months

And when winter set...

 

An empty graveyard

Cloaked in the purest of snow

A wilted red rose

 

 

© 2014 Writer #00


Author's Note

Writer #00
Hello faceless world. I haven't posted anything for a while, so I thought I'd post a little set of haiku I wrote for someone this December. I'm sure I'm not perfect, so if anyone sees a break in the haiku format (5 syllables/7 syllables/5 syllables), don't hesitate to let me know...of course, if you do hesitate, it's fine too... Please feel free to share your interpretations and the like. Thanks for reading : )

My Review

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Featured Review

A tale of a girl who took on burdens that she was in no way obligated, nor even capable to handle, but I can't help but feel as if these burdens were.. forced on her. You tell the tale of a girl drawing blood from a blade and trying to save everybody, dying in the process, although I suspect a suicide: a result from all the pain she could no longer bear nor solve. To top it all off, you, a dedicated companion who visited the grave every single day, only to find a red rose wilting, grown from her grave. Being me, I couldn't help but see that you use the word 'wilted'.. Perhaps a nod to the time you've spent away, and a rose grown overnight or left from somebody else, a metaphor of not being there in time to see the rose in its true glory, hence why it's wilted and not upright . . . Just a matter of not being there at the right time.
You've certainly outdone yourself, Writer (that amuses me, in its own way).

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Writer #00

6 Years Ago

As always, you offer wonderfully thought out interpretations to my poems. To be honest, I didn't th.. read more



Reviews

The good die young. The dead are forgotten. I beautiful poem.

Posted 5 Years Ago


Writer #00

5 Years Ago

Thank you so much for reading this piece! You've managed to compress some of the interpretations of.. read more
Vishuddha

5 Years Ago

You managed to take these compact truisms and turn them into a beautiful poem.
Oh Writer! You lovely Writer with the lovely poems :) I get quite emotional when I read your works.
I don't care if you've deviated from the haiku format or anything (I'm yet to read about Haiku :D)
But...this poem touched my heart.
The way you spoke of the altruistic girl (it seems like a woman you were writing about. No particular reason, but it...feel so) with her selfless soul, and how she became one with the earth which regurgitated her so the world can reminisce.

Lovely write! Yet again :)

Posted 5 Years Ago


Writer #00

5 Years Ago

Oh, wow, I'm a month late replying, sorry! Anyway, thank you for the lovely review. I imagined the.. read more
A tale of a girl who took on burdens that she was in no way obligated, nor even capable to handle, but I can't help but feel as if these burdens were.. forced on her. You tell the tale of a girl drawing blood from a blade and trying to save everybody, dying in the process, although I suspect a suicide: a result from all the pain she could no longer bear nor solve. To top it all off, you, a dedicated companion who visited the grave every single day, only to find a red rose wilting, grown from her grave. Being me, I couldn't help but see that you use the word 'wilted'.. Perhaps a nod to the time you've spent away, and a rose grown overnight or left from somebody else, a metaphor of not being there in time to see the rose in its true glory, hence why it's wilted and not upright . . . Just a matter of not being there at the right time.
You've certainly outdone yourself, Writer (that amuses me, in its own way).

Posted 6 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Writer #00

6 Years Ago

As always, you offer wonderfully thought out interpretations to my poems. To be honest, I didn't th.. read more

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Added on February 14, 2014
Last Updated on February 14, 2014
Tags: rose, warrior, death

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Writer #00
Writer #00

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About
I'm participating in the Summer Writing Project through Jukepop.com, an online serial website, those entering had to submit a novella on Jukepop.com. The finalists will be decided by the number of +V.. more..

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