Black Rose

A poem I wrote at a time when I had an interesting fascination with roses, on a darker day of self reflection no doubt.

I called her a black rose,
A silent, sulking being.
An atramentous black rose,
Her petals always wilting.

There was a certain darkness
Which forever drenched her soul;
If it were only an act,
She certainly knew no other role.

Her heart seemed so twisted,
A sorrowful thing to see;
It could be said that this identity
Defined who she’d eternally remain be.

This certain image I clearly see,
I sulk within it in my own dreams,
It’s the pain that drives the soul so rotten,
It strangles me dry to the seams.

The lady, the black rose, the pain,
They are one in the same thing.
You see, she can never truly die or fade
Because the black rose is my suffering.

Author's Note

Aug 19, 2008: This is an old poem of mine, written in January 2007. The last and most recent poem I've written now that I think about it, which is a little depressing. Not much to say here, I reckon. Harsh critiques are appreciated.

Reviews

[FoolsGold23]

"antramentous" didn't know that word, DO NOW!!! "the black rose is my suffering" love that line, the title instantly drew me in, I'm an avid pursuer of black roses, (well black flowers in general, they are so unique) and Was happily rewarded by a splendid, yet educational poem! well done, indeed!~Pyrite

[Dionysus Cain]

It draws the reader in, almost like a slow quicksand, it has a real meaning to me of hanging out in th e darkness.. The rose to me is the sweet sensation of the black, the journey, the open horizon.. a walk that leads to nothing

[GetTheHellOut]

Amazing Poem. Great work. I love black roses. They say that only one with a soul as dark as it's petals can truly apreciate a black rose. I always wandered if they were true... I like the way you write. Keep going.

[Lyrical Love]

This is an awesome expression of being tormented by your own demons...Kudos!
~Please continue to write...it's in you-naturally! I am glad that I read it. good job.
Warmly, Lyrical