rebar rose

a red and rusted, rebar rose he readied,

feebly fiddling its final form by feel,

too trying and too tranced,

too entrenched in thought, to thwart the thorns,

hands,

torn,

soul's,

worn,

broken, bloodied and bleary,

beholden yet bold and bound,

surroundings in silence

but a drip drip drip

as his blood bepaints the blooming bud

behold, the crimson corolla

dreary emptiness fully grips his imagination

a big bouquet abloom 

additional roses required

only one inadequately attained

as the last lick of life leaves

the seeping subsides

and the pooling pauses

the bloodied blanket becomes black

as the soul slowly cease to stay

the sole red and rusted, rebar rose beside,

unfurl

brazenly breathing balance back

unmatched unending

entropy's eternal epoch

all is claimed

claimed is all

fickle thoughts

merely made

faith find

him here

Author's Note

what did you just read?

Reviews

[D. Mansfield]

That is a great poem. Nice job