The Black Roses

Something from the heart.

Black are the roses -
the roses are black.
Beautiful as they swallow hot cylinders
which draw bats on the ceilings of caves.

Fossils filled with salt & saliva
corner wounded children,
& force them to crack clouds.
Mountains with no peak clap
for all atrocities.

The saddened skies fed still birds
& opened up their colours,
giving way to half moons
with halos & scarred penumbra.

Black were the roses -
the roses were black.
Covered in sweat as they
licked the golden scent
of ancient catacombs.

Brushing through the rose,
a child of immediate oils,
stained with heavy bark
on his chest & throat.

Concave of clay & dormant sunlight,
hiding the spell of rose.
Peacocks of gold & silver,
braids & shadows, whip their tails.

Black are the roses,
lined in perfect rows.
Whisper to the stars,
'the roses are black.'

Reviews

[Jessica M.]

"The saddened skies fed still birds." Damn that's a line. It astoundingly lacks cliches for such a melancholy poem. Kudos. This is truly good writing and your prolific vocabulary seems to reinforce that. Nice write.

[deleted]

This is a very intriguing piece. It is almost mystifying. Your word usuage was magnificent! My favoirite line was the second one. When you talked about corners filled with salt and saliva and then it seemed to become a little dark sad you can say:

Fossils filled with salt & saliva
corner wounded children,
& force them to crack clouds.
Mountains with no peak clap
for all atrocities.

The black roses seemed to depict something sad/bleek but it was still very beautifully written and clever thinking. I definitely enjoyed reading it. Well done! Keep exercising your gift and I look forward to reading more of your work.

[Starting Over]

This is a very beautiful piece this has some strong emotion from the heart. You did a wonderful job!