o ha1 r0ses

So I just looked outside and saw some roses growing on the side of the dorm. This inspired this poem. I wanted to play with some structure. I've been doing a lot of two five-line stanzas, so I cut them up thus. And the first and the last line end with "roses;" the first stanza implies that roses are divine (hence the sole capitalization). However, when it is shown that "All can be Roses," they don't lose their status so much as "All" reaches the same level. Yeah, that's an explanation.

Moral: The tragedy is not that some things are inherently evil, but that they think themselves incapable of becoming good.

o Roses,
you quiet touch
of passion!

how so much
falls ashen
and supposes

itself a ration!
the life it closes
is not such.
All can be Roses.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Wildflower in the Cemetery

So with all the nice weather we've been having, little purple wildflowers have started blooming in the cemetery. Though this and other blossoming flora have been fantastic for my allergies, I still can't help but find them alluring.

You take birth for granted,
As if you were a weed.
And how much nature panted
Would not augment your need.

Why do you take your roots
On someone else’s death?
Your beauty so pollutes,
But I could lose my breath.

And how you sway,
How your eyes flow;
Purple in the day,
At night like snow.

How your eyes stare
As I examine your face.
You give a familiar glare.
Have we the same base?

Oh, unknown of fear,
Incognizant to die,
You really shouldn't be here.
But then again, should I?

Flower Bouquet

In a Nalgene
Bowing towards
My window, this
Bouquet’s green
Leaves. What affords
A sun’s noon kiss?

The stems hollow,
Absorbing water
Is a fruitless task.
The heads will follow,
A wilted daughter,
An aging mask.

But yet their tone,
Their optimism in
The petals that reach.
Their hope alone
Is a prism in
A grayscale speech.


Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre