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. In straps, of wire saplings, Becomes one wild rose. Alone in the dawn, A solitary crow knows That this is beauty, Greater than his own Shiny black robe. Impossibly regal Red as a scarlet wail, A siren, amongst all The greens and yellows Of a meadow, of the entire World, is the rose, above those, Especially the bleak, envious Crow, latched to a branch As scaly and gnarled as his soul, Blacker than eternal night, Beside the shining light Of the rightly charmed Wild rose, Alone.              Sorry is the crow— Most of all unmatched, strikingly To long flame of chalk faced moon, Rides in airs, misbegotten, makes Desolate cries, of wounding caws, Self inflicted, so, somehow seems Unalive, tarred, undead as smoke, His fettered, black, unfeathering Eyes.  Not like the blooming spark And flash of the stunning, runner, Unbeaten, indomidible, shocking, Wild rose, unmired by bramble, Wood nor motley thorn of bush, A star of life, razor cut, blistering, Free, this spirited, ****** heart, Set, a rage, on jagged leaf. In tangled straps of green wire saplings, A Rose is even more a rose, next to crow.
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May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
Rose Alone with Crow
. In straps, of wire saplings, Becomes one wild rose. Alone in the dawn, A solitary crow knows That this is beauty, Greater than his own Shiny black robe. Impossibly regal Red as a scarlet wail, A siren, amongst all The greens and yellows Of a meadow, of the entire World, is the rose, above those, Especially the bleak, envious Crow, latched to a branch As scaly and gnarled as his soul, Blacker than eternal night, Beside the shining light Of the rightly charmed Wild rose, Alone.              Sorry is the crow— Most of all unmatched, strikingly To long flame of chalk faced moon, Rides in airs, misbegotten, makes Desolate cries, of wounding caws, Self inflicted, so, somehow seems Unalive, tarred, undead as smoke, His fettered, black, unfeathering Eyes.  Not like the blooming spark And flash of the stunning, runner, Unbeaten, indomidible, shocking, Wild rose, unmired by bramble, Wood nor motley thorn of bush, A star of life, razor cut, blistering, Free, this spirited, ****** heart, Set, a rage, on jagged leaf. In tangled straps of green wire saplings, A Rose is even more a rose, next to crow.
ormond
Written by
Irish
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 5:18 PM UTC
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