A dozen black roses on a lonely grave feeling the chill of the snow again.
A dozen black roses on a lonely grave
Sadly watching a solemn parade
Mourners letting fall their tears
Remembering such lovely years
Tossing vibrant flowers on the upturned earth
A dozen black roses on a lonely grave
Hearing goodbyes the children made
Seeing the mother hold onto their hands
As the father is returned to the land
Walking away through soggy grass
A dozen black roses on a lonely grave
Knowing the family will never be the same
And hoping the plot will not be forgotten
A dozen black roses on a lonely grave
Feeling the chill of the snow again
Watching mourners come and go
But the dozen black roses are always alone
Written in theology a few days ago when my teacher was droning on and on about the same stuff she'd been talking about for about three days already. Finally got the chance to post it. Comments and crit appreciated :3
My Review
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I see the black roses as being the symbol for the deep loss the family feels....perhaps in actuality the roses are red, to all others there they are red, but for the people who have lost this pillar of their family they are black....forever dark and void of life, empty as a symbol for how this loss will affect their lives from this moment on.
Firstly, I love the ending ^_^ Secondly, I totally get it and there are tons of meanings for this but they all kind of dwindle down to the same one, a family that has to regain itself over the years after losing someone. Amazing, I loved it, and I think it's perfectly written. ^_^
A dozen black roses contrasts with 'vibrant flowers.' Purposeful or not? I assume the vibrant flowers are not the black roses - if not, I wonder what they're doing here. I think the third stanza is flat and like the poem better without it. Maybe more could be done with the black roses in metaphor or simile, though I like the format for how they're used to introduce each stanza. :-)
This is so deeply moving... In contemplation, I whispered 'Why a dozen roses...?' I still wonder...
You capture the bleakness of death and the despair of loneliness brilliantly. Form is outstanding.
It is so sad that someday we all must say goodbye...
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I'm 20 years old. I've been writing since I was 4.
Writing is more than just a hobby. It's my passion, my drug, my therapy and my life.
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