Butter Rose

A lacy low on lips of summer I sighed,
As once a tender kiss breathed love,
Though on his he did not seek to satisfy,
But to proclaim me a delicate rose.
I melted at his feet and my heart throbbed his name;
He promised to water me day after day.
Why keep the miserable living
If flowers wilt in autumn all the same?

Author's Note

I'm still not too happy with it, but it'll do for now.

Reviews

[Patrick Henry]

This was gorgeous!! I wonder if what is running a circus in my head right now with tones of home and delicious scents is how another may read some of MY sweeter poems!! It read to me like a Sonnet, though strange, but only because the beats would be off. It is absolutely a pretty stunner!! : ) That first line? I got about halfway through it and thought my face was buried in some famous person's poems for when i was a kid reading up on Baudelaire and Wilde. There are so many levels to wanting this poem to be selfishly directed at ME when I read this and also listening to your beautiful word choices that bounce between those of the actual rose, Love perhaps, and the process of understanding our own connection to what we ALL consider Love. "He promised to water me day after day.", says such a process for me to hear and listen and Love. I caught myself whispering before the poem was even done: "I Love You". My goodness this was sweet!! I wrote a poem called "Black Rose" that is on this site. All in alphabetical order going backwards to the highest page past the first 20 poems or so. She answered the poem and wrote me one in return and it sounds like what you have written here in a way. I am taken aback by how beautiful you are. I read words, sure, but I rarely hear the music. I want to keep whispering it. If I was silly enough not to be a fan before this, I am surely now with an incredible heart to witness of you. Wonderful job!! xoxox -Mark

WOW!!

[Hayley]

you, sir, are incredibly kind! thanks very much!

[Patrick Henry]

It's accidental..... accidentally. lol I wrote the name of your poem, here, in a notebook of my favorite poems I've read in the last 8 years or so, and there are very few of them. A Preschooler could count to such a number. : ) xo Your Butter Rose "My GOODNESS that is an incredible image to behold!!"....and my "Black Rose" should dance!! 99 times out of a hundred, I will not read what I've written in a comment box, and will not edit whilst doing so in its first instance before it is "added". Beautiful, Hayley... xox -Mark

[Gobinder Singh Dhindsa]

Really Lovely writing!
Keep it up!
Do you read mine too Anguish and She..
God bless you..
Lucky!

[Muse]

He promised to water me day after day.

Beautiful!
If flowers wilt in autumn all the same?

Maybe try instead, to make a more powerful point:

If flowers wilt in autumn; will I the same?

[Omar Fendri]

and here I find you using the inspiration of the flower (which I love using as well) to illustrate such a breathing scene that mangles the romance and the pain. delicate words and outstanding expression and the last two stanzas are the icing on the cake. Melting at your feet as well.

[Chris]

If YOU aren't satisfied then it isn't done... take your time and wander it line-by-line... taste it... don't overwork it - but see how your thoughts flow and fit.

Chris

[paul]

i love the metaphor and rhyme at the end.

[An owl on the moon]

There is such a sweet summer day written in your words... the warmth of love and desire... the longing to be cared for... Yet, there is that sadness that sweeps over the chill to come. So well done.

[Robin]

you write beautifully Hayley , love this metaphorical lamentation of a rose ..

[Audrey Howitt]

I love the simplicity of it. Your emotions just shine through here. Wonderful writing Hayley!

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

The sheer simple nodes of structurre here are what gets the reader to really look for message in the piece. A perfection is flowed imagery and sense gives it it's power, well done, a great read.

[Charlie]

I actually found this to be one of my favorites of your work.
In it's simplicity it shows everything. Your sadness, tinged with wonder.
Nothing you ever write is as it seems. I love that.