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18/Non-binary/Based in Wisconsin
Xe/They / HS '23 / Published Poet, Translator, Journalist, Working Editor & Lit Magazine Founder
F
♦*–Her mind is constantly flirting with the impossible–*♦
Poems
Sibyl Vane Mar 2014
The Rose and the Nightingale
Sibyl Vane
Mar 2014
"She will dance with me,"
He murmured to himself,
"If I bring her a white rose,
Pure as a snowflake,
And sweet as a summer day."
Sitting there in the garden,
His blue eyes fell shut
As the wind ran her fingers
Through his dark hair.
His lips parted in a sigh,
Enjoying the warm afternoon sun
And the thoughts of the one he loves.
"His is the song I've sung
My entire life,"
Chirped the little nightingale,
"Without knowing it,
I have told his story a thousand times
To the moon and the stars
That light the night sky.
I've sung of hope and joy
And True Love and
Happily Ever Afters
To the trees and the flowers
That in this garden grow."
But the young man cried,
"But I have no rose to give her!"
He covered his face with his hands
And cried.
His whole body shook
As the hope for real love,
The kind that many people
Spend their whole lives looking for
In all the wrong places,
Flew away in the wind.
"She'll never realize I am the one for her,
If I cannot find a white rose
And ask her to dance,"
He cried.
The little nightingale's heart was touched
By the young lover.
She cried out her song for him,
For all the lost loves in the world.
He, she determined, was not going to be one of them.
The nightingale decided that
She would find him a rose,
With which he could woo the girl he so loved.
She flew on delicate wings to the rose bush
That grew beside the fountain.
"If you would give me a pure white rose,
I will sing you my sweetest song
All the nights of my life."
But the rose bush answered,
"I have only yellow roses,
Bright as lemons and sunshine,
And sweet as springtime honey.
Ask my brother who climbs the arbor,
He may give you what you desire."
So the sweet nightingale flew to the rose vine
That was tangled on the arbor.
"If you would give me a pure white rose,
I will sing you my sweetest song
All the nights of my life."
But the rose vine replied,
"I have only pink roses,
Pink as a maiden's blush
On the day she weds her beau.
Ask my brother who grows
Under the young man's window.
He may give you what you desire."
So the nightingale flew to the rose bush
That grew under the young man's window.
"If you would give me a pure white rose,
I will sing you my sweetest song
All the nights of my life."
To which the rose bush replied,
"I have only red roses,
Dark and rich as faerie wine,
Red as the blood of your heart,
Sweeter than stolen kisses under the moon.
But I can give you a white rose."
Filled with hope and joy,
The nightingale replied,
"I will give anything for a white rose,
What must I do?"
The rose bush shook its petals sadly.
"The way is too awful.
I cannot tell you."
The nightingale knew the value of love;
She would do anything for the rose.
"There is a way, little bird.
By moonlight you must come close
And press you breast against my thorns.
Love is sharp and you must not be afraid.
You must sing your sweetest song all night,
And press closer to me,
Until my thorn pierces your heart
And all your heart-blood runs out.
It is the only way."
The nightingale thought about this.
"What price would not be paid for love?
How much greater is the love of this young man
Than the life of a little bird?
This I will gladly do,
For true love's sake."
So the nightingale flew across the garden,
Where the lover had not yet dried
The tears from his eyes.
His cheeks were stained
Pink with his sadness,
His eyes shimmered with tears yet unreleased.
She sang to him to be hopeful,
To believe in his love,
And that all will be well.
The blue-eyed young man
Smiled at the nightingale,
For her song was beautiful,
Though he did not understand.
The nightingale flew about the garden,
Enjoying the beauty of life.
She sang to the oak trees and the daffodils,
And they wept that they would not hear her song again.
They were comforted that she would be silenced for love,
For love has no price too great.
The earth ate the last rays of the sun
And the moon shone
Wan and pallid in the night sky.
She, too, was sad to hear only this one last song
From the nightingale.
Then the bird flew to the red rose bush
And pressed her breast against the thorn.
She sang her sweetest song.
It was so beautiful that all the dead lovers of the world
Shuddered in their graves
With the reminder of the love in life,
The wind joined her voice with the nightingale's
And carried her song to the ends of the the earth,
To the darkest caves where Echo returned it,
To the ocean's waves that kept the time,
To the peaceful moors where the grass danced along,
To the sleeping child to give her sweet dreams.
"Closer, closer!"
Urged the rose bush,
"I must taste your heart's blood
Before dawn,
Or the rose will not be done."
So the nightingale pressed closer still to the thorn
As the rose bush spun the most beautiful rose
It had ever spun.
But red! A red red rose it was.
"Closer still!"
Cried the rose bush,
And the nightingale pressed closer until her heart was pricked.
A bolt of pain struck the nightingale
And her song rang out through the garden,
Her melody, sweet with love and anguish,
Reached the ears of the young man.
He sat up in his bed,
And was so moved by the nightingale's song,
He stayed awake to listen.
As the nightingale's heart-blood poured onto the rose,
The reddest rose washed white as a freshly fallen snow,
Her tears mingled with the blood,
For only blood can wash out blood,
And only tears can heal.
And so the red rose became white,
As dewdrops and starlight,
As the nightingale's voice grew faint.
And she fell to the ground as the first breath of dawn
Shone gray on the horizon.
The whole garden heaved a sigh
As the nightingale's song was done.
A chorus of flowers and crickets and wind
Sang their mournful song
For the little nightingale
Who gave her life for love.
When the sun had risen in the sky,
The young man walked out into the garden
And saw the white rose.
Carefully he cut it, admiring its beauty.
He did not notice the nightingale,
Laying dead on the ground.
He gazed at the rose in awe,
And inhaled its damask perfume.
It smelled of starlight and sweet dreams,
Of mothers' lullabies and midnight kisses,
Of laughter and heartache,
Of True Love and tender death.
"This is the rose for my beloved,"
He said to himself,
And he prepared himself for the ball.
That night, when the sun had set again,
He met his fair lady, whom he so dearly loved.
"This rose is for you, so that you will dance with me."
He handed her the rose, the white rose with no thorns.
She took it gently, breathing in its scent.
"Dear boy, I will dance with you tonight."
He took her hand and led her out onto the floor.
They danced and danced
All through the evening,
More than rules of decency allow.
She smiled and laughed and fell in love.
When the evening closed
And it was time to go home,
She held the white rose close to her heart
And breathed in its sweet perfume.
Her heart was happy
And faintly, a nightingale's song
Seemed to whisper in her ear.
She grabbed the young man by the hand,
The man whom she loved.
"I will dance with you all the nights of my life,
If you so desire," she whispered.
"My darling, I desire no more," the young man smiled,
His blue eyes sparkling in the lamplight.
For love is a silly thing.
It is not half so useful as logic,
But it is twice so important.
True Love tells only things
That are the most true.
It tells of joy and comfort,
But also of sacrifice and pain.
And in this age,
Though to be practical is everything,
Love is the most important of all.
He murmured to himself,
"If I bring her a white rose,
Pure as a snowflake,
And sweet as a summer day."
Sitting there in the garden,
His blue eyes fell shut
As the wind ran her fingers
Through his dark hair.
His lips parted in a sigh,
Enjoying the warm afternoon sun
And the thoughts of the one he loves.
"His is the song I've sung
My entire life,"
Chirped the little nightingale,
"Without knowing it,
I have told his story a thousand times
To the moon and the stars
That light the night sky.
I've sung of hope and joy
And True Love and
Happily Ever Afters
To the trees and the flowers
That in this garden grow."
But the young man cried,
"But I have no rose to give her!"
He covered his face with his hands
And cried.
His whole body shook
As the hope for real love,
The kind that many people
Spend their whole lives looking for
In all the wrong places,
Flew away in the wind.
"She'll never realize I am the one for her,
If I cannot find a white rose
And ask her to dance,"
He cried.
The little nightingale's heart was touched
By the young lover.
She cried out her song for him,
For all the lost loves in the world.
He, she determined, was not going to be one of them.
The nightingale decided that
She would find him a rose,
With which he could woo the girl he so loved.
She flew on delicate wings to the rose bush
That grew beside the fountain.
"If you would give me a pure white rose,
I will sing you my sweetest song
All the nights of my life."
But the rose bush answered,
"I have only yellow roses,
Bright as lemons and sunshine,
And sweet as springtime honey.
Ask my brother who climbs the arbor,
He may give you what you desire."
So the sweet nightingale flew to the rose vine
That was tangled on the arbor.
"If you would give me a pure white rose,
I will sing you my sweetest song
All the nights of my life."
But the rose vine replied,
"I have only pink roses,
Pink as a maiden's blush
On the day she weds her beau.
Ask my brother who grows
Under the young man's window.
He may give you what you desire."
So the nightingale flew to the rose bush
That grew under the young man's window.
"If you would give me a pure white rose,
I will sing you my sweetest song
All the nights of my life."
To which the rose bush replied,
"I have only red roses,
Dark and rich as faerie wine,
Red as the blood of your heart,
Sweeter than stolen kisses under the moon.
But I can give you a white rose."
Filled with hope and joy,
The nightingale replied,
"I will give anything for a white rose,
What must I do?"
The rose bush shook its petals sadly.
"The way is too awful.
I cannot tell you."
The nightingale knew the value of love;
She would do anything for the rose.
"There is a way, little bird.
By moonlight you must come close
And press you breast against my thorns.
Love is sharp and you must not be afraid.
You must sing your sweetest song all night,
And press closer to me,
Until my thorn pierces your heart
And all your heart-blood runs out.
It is the only way."
The nightingale thought about this.
"What price would not be paid for love?
How much greater is the love of this young man
Than the life of a little bird?
This I will gladly do,
For true love's sake."
So the nightingale flew across the garden,
Where the lover had not yet dried
The tears from his eyes.
His cheeks were stained
Pink with his sadness,
His eyes shimmered with tears yet unreleased.
She sang to him to be hopeful,
To believe in his love,
And that all will be well.
The blue-eyed young man
Smiled at the nightingale,
For her song was beautiful,
Though he did not understand.
The nightingale flew about the garden,
Enjoying the beauty of life.
She sang to the oak trees and the daffodils,
And they wept that they would not hear her song again.
They were comforted that she would be silenced for love,
For love has no price too great.
The earth ate the last rays of the sun
And the moon shone
Wan and pallid in the night sky.
She, too, was sad to hear only this one last song
From the nightingale.
Then the bird flew to the red rose bush
And pressed her breast against the thorn.
She sang her sweetest song.
It was so beautiful that all the dead lovers of the world
Shuddered in their graves
With the reminder of the love in life,
The wind joined her voice with the nightingale's
And carried her song to the ends of the the earth,
To the darkest caves where Echo returned it,
To the ocean's waves that kept the time,
To the peaceful moors where the grass danced along,
To the sleeping child to give her sweet dreams.
"Closer, closer!"
Urged the rose bush,
"I must taste your heart's blood
Before dawn,
Or the rose will not be done."
So the nightingale pressed closer still to the thorn
As the rose bush spun the most beautiful rose
It had ever spun.
But red! A red red rose it was.
"Closer still!"
Cried the rose bush,
And the nightingale pressed closer until her heart was pricked.
A bolt of pain struck the nightingale
And her song rang out through the garden,
Her melody, sweet with love and anguish,
Reached the ears of the young man.
He sat up in his bed,
And was so moved by the nightingale's song,
He stayed awake to listen.
As the nightingale's heart-blood poured onto the rose,
The reddest rose washed white as a freshly fallen snow,
Her tears mingled with the blood,
For only blood can wash out blood,
And only tears can heal.
And so the red rose became white,
As dewdrops and starlight,
As the nightingale's voice grew faint.
And she fell to the ground as the first breath of dawn
Shone gray on the horizon.
The whole garden heaved a sigh
As the nightingale's song was done.
A chorus of flowers and crickets and wind
Sang their mournful song
For the little nightingale
Who gave her life for love.
When the sun had risen in the sky,
The young man walked out into the garden
And saw the white rose.
Carefully he cut it, admiring its beauty.
He did not notice the nightingale,
Laying dead on the ground.
He gazed at the rose in awe,
And inhaled its damask perfume.
It smelled of starlight and sweet dreams,
Of mothers' lullabies and midnight kisses,
Of laughter and heartache,
Of True Love and tender death.
"This is the rose for my beloved,"
He said to himself,
And he prepared himself for the ball.
That night, when the sun had set again,
He met his fair lady, whom he so dearly loved.
"This rose is for you, so that you will dance with me."
He handed her the rose, the white rose with no thorns.
She took it gently, breathing in its scent.
"Dear boy, I will dance with you tonight."
He took her hand and led her out onto the floor.
They danced and danced
All through the evening,
More than rules of decency allow.
She smiled and laughed and fell in love.
When the evening closed
And it was time to go home,
She held the white rose close to her heart
And breathed in its sweet perfume.
Her heart was happy
And faintly, a nightingale's song
Seemed to whisper in her ear.
She grabbed the young man by the hand,
The man whom she loved.
"I will dance with you all the nights of my life,
If you so desire," she whispered.
"My darling, I desire no more," the young man smiled,
His blue eyes sparkling in the lamplight.
For love is a silly thing.
It is not half so useful as logic,
But it is twice so important.
True Love tells only things
That are the most true.
It tells of joy and comfort,
But also of sacrifice and pain.
And in this age,
Though to be practical is everything,
Love is the most important of all.
This was inspired by Oscar Wilde's short story, The Rose and the Nightingale, and a couple lines were taken from the Ballad of Reading Gaol, among other works by Wilde. I didn't like how his story ended, so I changed it. It's a story of love and sacrifice now, instead of being a picture of the modern day. It's hope.
johnny georgy brown
Mar 2016
florence white or better known as mumma rose gets captured in ron’s psych ward
after losing her mate harold stone in 2011, florence ‘mumma rose’ white started
to show the screws that she is a changed woman but she can’t resist, escaping from the secure
psychiatric unit and then started to search the web to find tasha andrews, so she can have
ella white, who is the chosen one, but this time mumma rose was determined to win, and
mumma rose decided to bring her commune to the web and she would trick everyone who
looks like they can help her into joining the computer generation, which was the name of her
new commune, and florence wanted to find tasha and ells, and she would do anything to get
help to find them.
ron was searching the web and wrote on google after having problems with the web and
‘what is wrong with the computer generation, and surprise surprise, he came across mumma rose’s
website, but it was secure, because florence didn’t want no irene roberts to stop her plan, but
ron was unsure about whether this was a lead, so he searched for any way of finding a date of when
this website was found, but he couldn’t find it, but ron forwarded the websie over to the police and
then ron was called in, with the police saying, where did you find this site and ron said, i was searching
for something i like and i then accidentally googled what is wrong with the computer generation and
this was on the top, and the police said, yeah well, this site was built in 2012 in the hope of capturing
tasha and ella once more, and it looks like she is off her medication as well.
ron left the police station and went to his usual place and there was one of mumma rose’s computer generation
buddy’s having a cup of coffee and a cake, and he said, my friend mumma rose wants me to bring ella white home to her
after that evil tasha andrews and irene roberts took her away from her, and ron said, listen, do you know where she lives
and mumma rose’s buddy said nothing, not even his name because he can’t see the evil in mumma rose but ron wanted
to trial a new medication on her because the one she was on wasn’t working and the man said, why the **** are you doctors
trying to shove good people on drugs, and she is a good person, you know who the real villain is. it is that evil irene roberts and
tasha andrews, or she wants is to have her baby brought back to her.
ron said, she has manipulated so many people, and she is dangerous and the man said, ‘dangerous’ a wild dog can be dangerous
a tiger can be dangerous. better still a knife reeling bandit is dangerous, but mumma rose is ever so gentle, and the computer generation
are protecting her from you quacks and cops.
ron sat there and took a photo of the guy with his phone and sent it to the police and then went to his HDU and the inmates were getting restless
and charlie chaplin said did you hear the news, they caught mumma rose, and she should be back in her psych ward soon and ron
said, when did this happen and before he can say anything else, mumma rose was walking into his HDU, and florence said, hi, my name is
florence white, and i was arrested for having a website, just imagination in this day and age, getting arrested for having a website.
ron asked mumma rose, you were a NSW lady, what brings you here, and mumma rose said, i had a sure plan to get my daughter back
from those evil so called family people irene roberts and tasha andrews, i was ready to pounce till i got a visit from the police, and ron asked her
did you have a lead, and mumma rose said yeah, there was this little 9 year old girl really got hooked on this website and i thought, ella, this is ella
i know it, she is my daughter who has been taken away by irene and tasha and i am ever so determined to reach out, and when the police came
i lost all hope of ever seeing her again, so are you happy mr ron cooper, and mumma rose added i am not taking any medication, because there is
nothing wrong with me, give tasha and irene medication and send them in here, and let me go, i have my new found friends to look after
and ron said, ‘NO’, you are staying here and while you have still got thoughts in harming that child, you will stay here as i prescribe largactil to you
with a dash of serenace and mumma rose walked away saying, i am not participating in any childish games until i get out of here, i will take your
wonder drug, to get me better so i can be with my daughter again and ron bought out the lunches and mumma rose had nothing and charlie said
eat this, it’s great and mumma rose said, if i wasn’t missing my daughter, i would punch you and patty roe went up to florence and said i am
george washington and florence said ‘SHUT UP’, and went over to the television yelling at every word said on the television, and that meant a
lot of yelling and ron tried to settle her down and brought her medication to her, and mumma rose said, my daughter is out there with evil
and ron bought out the sandwiches as well as the rest of the medications and mumma rose went up to charlie chaplin and grabbed him
and said to ron, i will **** him if you go home now, ron said, no you haven’t got any weapons so ron went home, but when ron went home,
mumma rose continued with her threat to **** someone and she killed george washington, saying go back to the USA in a coffin and the nursing
staff rang ron up and ron came straight away and went into mumma rose’s room and said, you ain’t going to see your daughter if you **** everyone
in here, ok and after yelling at florence ron went to his office and put a do not disturb sign on his door while mumma rose was pumped full of drugs/
after losing her mate harold stone in 2011, florence ‘mumma rose’ white started
to show the screws that she is a changed woman but she can’t resist, escaping from the secure
psychiatric unit and then started to search the web to find tasha andrews, so she can have
ella white, who is the chosen one, but this time mumma rose was determined to win, and
mumma rose decided to bring her commune to the web and she would trick everyone who
looks like they can help her into joining the computer generation, which was the name of her
new commune, and florence wanted to find tasha and ells, and she would do anything to get
help to find them.
ron was searching the web and wrote on google after having problems with the web and
‘what is wrong with the computer generation, and surprise surprise, he came across mumma rose’s
website, but it was secure, because florence didn’t want no irene roberts to stop her plan, but
ron was unsure about whether this was a lead, so he searched for any way of finding a date of when
this website was found, but he couldn’t find it, but ron forwarded the websie over to the police and
then ron was called in, with the police saying, where did you find this site and ron said, i was searching
for something i like and i then accidentally googled what is wrong with the computer generation and
this was on the top, and the police said, yeah well, this site was built in 2012 in the hope of capturing
tasha and ella once more, and it looks like she is off her medication as well.
ron left the police station and went to his usual place and there was one of mumma rose’s computer generation
buddy’s having a cup of coffee and a cake, and he said, my friend mumma rose wants me to bring ella white home to her
after that evil tasha andrews and irene roberts took her away from her, and ron said, listen, do you know where she lives
and mumma rose’s buddy said nothing, not even his name because he can’t see the evil in mumma rose but ron wanted
to trial a new medication on her because the one she was on wasn’t working and the man said, why the **** are you doctors
trying to shove good people on drugs, and she is a good person, you know who the real villain is. it is that evil irene roberts and
tasha andrews, or she wants is to have her baby brought back to her.
ron said, she has manipulated so many people, and she is dangerous and the man said, ‘dangerous’ a wild dog can be dangerous
a tiger can be dangerous. better still a knife reeling bandit is dangerous, but mumma rose is ever so gentle, and the computer generation
are protecting her from you quacks and cops.
ron sat there and took a photo of the guy with his phone and sent it to the police and then went to his HDU and the inmates were getting restless
and charlie chaplin said did you hear the news, they caught mumma rose, and she should be back in her psych ward soon and ron
said, when did this happen and before he can say anything else, mumma rose was walking into his HDU, and florence said, hi, my name is
florence white, and i was arrested for having a website, just imagination in this day and age, getting arrested for having a website.
ron asked mumma rose, you were a NSW lady, what brings you here, and mumma rose said, i had a sure plan to get my daughter back
from those evil so called family people irene roberts and tasha andrews, i was ready to pounce till i got a visit from the police, and ron asked her
did you have a lead, and mumma rose said yeah, there was this little 9 year old girl really got hooked on this website and i thought, ella, this is ella
i know it, she is my daughter who has been taken away by irene and tasha and i am ever so determined to reach out, and when the police came
i lost all hope of ever seeing her again, so are you happy mr ron cooper, and mumma rose added i am not taking any medication, because there is
nothing wrong with me, give tasha and irene medication and send them in here, and let me go, i have my new found friends to look after
and ron said, ‘NO’, you are staying here and while you have still got thoughts in harming that child, you will stay here as i prescribe largactil to you
with a dash of serenace and mumma rose walked away saying, i am not participating in any childish games until i get out of here, i will take your
wonder drug, to get me better so i can be with my daughter again and ron bought out the lunches and mumma rose had nothing and charlie said
eat this, it’s great and mumma rose said, if i wasn’t missing my daughter, i would punch you and patty roe went up to florence and said i am
george washington and florence said ‘SHUT UP’, and went over to the television yelling at every word said on the television, and that meant a
lot of yelling and ron tried to settle her down and brought her medication to her, and mumma rose said, my daughter is out there with evil
and ron bought out the sandwiches as well as the rest of the medications and mumma rose went up to charlie chaplin and grabbed him
and said to ron, i will **** him if you go home now, ron said, no you haven’t got any weapons so ron went home, but when ron went home,
mumma rose continued with her threat to **** someone and she killed george washington, saying go back to the USA in a coffin and the nursing
staff rang ron up and ron came straight away and went into mumma rose’s room and said, you ain’t going to see your daughter if you **** everyone
in here, ok and after yelling at florence ron went to his office and put a do not disturb sign on his door while mumma rose was pumped full of drugs/
Niesha Radovanic Aug 2017
carmel garden
Niesha Radovanic
Aug 2017
do you know what it's like to have a pit in your heart? i can feel it right now i can hear gymnopiede playing in the back ground filling me with a sanity but not enough remember what Rupi said " it was when i stopped searching for home within others and lifted the foundations of home within myself i found there are no roots more intimate than those between a mind and body that have decided to be whole" but instead i fall in love w the little things that i mold into big things to make myself feel important. when people see that i'm stressed and deprived of sleep and love i feel significant to their daily lives.
i want to be the rose in the garden that everyone wants to tend so they can revive the gold medal for the best green thumb. i want to be the bookmark of every bibliophile on the planet but little do they know that rose wants to die that's rose has thorns inside poking her every hope. rose hopes for love but not just any love. rose hopes that a dandelion will come who will be intelligent enough to pull the thorns out and so beautiful she will gasp for another breath just to see their petals. on weekends rose absorbs enough sunlight to get up for work. she tends to the clothing at the retail stop at the local mall and as she folds the endless piles of destroyed denim she admires the many flowers that tend to one another.she can smell the scent of the flickering candles upstairs and she makes her way up to the candle shop on her break she never sets foot inside, she worries the flicker of the flame will catch her petals. rose doesn't want to be alone when it happens she wants a dandelion to come and save her from the flame she wants dandelion to roar as loud as he can and blow the flame out. and be there ready to sweep rose off her stem. rose wants everyone to be happy she try's her hardest to make sure her garden has enough light and water and that everyone's petals aren't frowning. rose has tried too hard she ends up being the loneliness one her garden. she returns to her shop after break she goes back to folding the same endless pile of denim and she admires the buttercup walking with the california poppy looking at the lights hanging from the ceiling. the dutch iris and the crocus intertwining their petals. honesty and honeysuckle are pursing the petals together under the mistletoe. rose gathers her tools and makes her way to her wheel barrow parked by the restrauants she passes the children frolicking in the lot and she catches the heart beat of excitement of the little girl who's eyes are glued to the ipad that is playing alice and wonderland and rose can hear the garden scene and she cringes and feels like she's been swallowed by a world who doesn't know what passion is. rose wonders where the little girls mother is and she catches her mother sitting on the lap of the magnolia and she longs to be a mother but a mother who watches alice in wonderland with her child and frolics with her kids in the parking lot but pays attention to the cars coming just in case her motherly instincts have to kick in.
rose returns to her garden and flips thru the channels hoping to find a romance movie on. rose does this to her self. she absorbs her self into all the love she can get because deep downside she fears she will never find her dandelion. rose finds her self drowning in an ocean of tears. she crys out to the garden are my petals not light enough? is my stem to thick?. rose wants to dig herself a grave and burry herself there with the fake petals of a dandelion so that one day when the walkers in the cemetery hear the clanking of her stem crying out for love they will dig her up and see how much she coveted the love of a dandelion and they will find the real petals and place them next to her. rose will tear honey because that's the sweetest thing she knows she will wipe her tears and lick the honey off of her petals. rose doesn't want to hide in her sunken city of petals she wants to tell you who she is. hello i am rose.
i've been trying to get rid of the file cabinets in my brain that i have been organized alphabetically. A- aster i love you and i promise your prayers for a new kidney will be granted. B- bleeding heart i want you to know i will drive you in wheel barrow to the hospital so you
can be sewed up. C- carnation please don't fret the world loves you and im so sorry you have a price tag that will eventually be ripped off when the children at the elementary school down the street buy you on february 14th just know that you're so much more to me than a valentine's day gift. D- daffodil you're too precious to feel unwanted your lover will come soon.i can hear the crys of them but please go back to the bed and sleep. i'm able to open my pedals up and hear the weeping of a dandelion "thank you for being there for them and just know i've been hear all along, rose. you're tired i can tell by the wrinkles of your palms please promise me rose that you will baptize yourself into the ocean of love that you keep drowning in. " rose pulls the dead roots that are pinning her down in her grave and gasps for another breath to see dandelion before the roots come back from under and tug her back down she is able to string her broken english together and whisper " dandelion i already have"
i want to be the rose in the garden that everyone wants to tend so they can revive the gold medal for the best green thumb. i want to be the bookmark of every bibliophile on the planet but little do they know that rose wants to die that's rose has thorns inside poking her every hope. rose hopes for love but not just any love. rose hopes that a dandelion will come who will be intelligent enough to pull the thorns out and so beautiful she will gasp for another breath just to see their petals. on weekends rose absorbs enough sunlight to get up for work. she tends to the clothing at the retail stop at the local mall and as she folds the endless piles of destroyed denim she admires the many flowers that tend to one another.she can smell the scent of the flickering candles upstairs and she makes her way up to the candle shop on her break she never sets foot inside, she worries the flicker of the flame will catch her petals. rose doesn't want to be alone when it happens she wants a dandelion to come and save her from the flame she wants dandelion to roar as loud as he can and blow the flame out. and be there ready to sweep rose off her stem. rose wants everyone to be happy she try's her hardest to make sure her garden has enough light and water and that everyone's petals aren't frowning. rose has tried too hard she ends up being the loneliness one her garden. she returns to her shop after break she goes back to folding the same endless pile of denim and she admires the buttercup walking with the california poppy looking at the lights hanging from the ceiling. the dutch iris and the crocus intertwining their petals. honesty and honeysuckle are pursing the petals together under the mistletoe. rose gathers her tools and makes her way to her wheel barrow parked by the restrauants she passes the children frolicking in the lot and she catches the heart beat of excitement of the little girl who's eyes are glued to the ipad that is playing alice and wonderland and rose can hear the garden scene and she cringes and feels like she's been swallowed by a world who doesn't know what passion is. rose wonders where the little girls mother is and she catches her mother sitting on the lap of the magnolia and she longs to be a mother but a mother who watches alice in wonderland with her child and frolics with her kids in the parking lot but pays attention to the cars coming just in case her motherly instincts have to kick in.
rose returns to her garden and flips thru the channels hoping to find a romance movie on. rose does this to her self. she absorbs her self into all the love she can get because deep downside she fears she will never find her dandelion. rose finds her self drowning in an ocean of tears. she crys out to the garden are my petals not light enough? is my stem to thick?. rose wants to dig herself a grave and burry herself there with the fake petals of a dandelion so that one day when the walkers in the cemetery hear the clanking of her stem crying out for love they will dig her up and see how much she coveted the love of a dandelion and they will find the real petals and place them next to her. rose will tear honey because that's the sweetest thing she knows she will wipe her tears and lick the honey off of her petals. rose doesn't want to hide in her sunken city of petals she wants to tell you who she is. hello i am rose.
i've been trying to get rid of the file cabinets in my brain that i have been organized alphabetically. A- aster i love you and i promise your prayers for a new kidney will be granted. B- bleeding heart i want you to know i will drive you in wheel barrow to the hospital so you
can be sewed up. C- carnation please don't fret the world loves you and im so sorry you have a price tag that will eventually be ripped off when the children at the elementary school down the street buy you on february 14th just know that you're so much more to me than a valentine's day gift. D- daffodil you're too precious to feel unwanted your lover will come soon.i can hear the crys of them but please go back to the bed and sleep. i'm able to open my pedals up and hear the weeping of a dandelion "thank you for being there for them and just know i've been hear all along, rose. you're tired i can tell by the wrinkles of your palms please promise me rose that you will baptize yourself into the ocean of love that you keep drowning in. " rose pulls the dead roots that are pinning her down in her grave and gasps for another breath to see dandelion before the roots come back from under and tug her back down she is able to string her broken english together and whisper " dandelion i already have"