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Ella Rosebud
Fiji   
Princess Rosebud
Another phoenix rising from the ashes story.

Poems

Coffee in the mornings
******* afternoons
Smoking joints in joints
Listening to music
Every night by moon

My youth went up
As another puff
As another sniff , a wiff
And before I knew it
I was looking very ruff

I can't even remember
If I slept at all
Or who I was sleeping with
For all I see are faces
Their names I don't recall

Rosebud tripped on the step
Coming out the entrance door
She fell into my open arms
I would never be the same man
As I was just before

See most women
Leave their jewelry
Rosebud left her name

Rosebud loved the thunder
Rosebud loved the rain
She scared me like lightning
Laugh at all my pain


She never asked me if I loved her
She never said the same
She laid her head upon my shoulder
Said when you're gone
I will be sorely pained

Rosebud tripped on the step
Coming out the entrance door
And fell into my open arms
I would never be the same man
As I was just before

See most woman
Leave their jewelry
Rosebud left her name .
Francie Lynch May 2015
Of all the names
To call one's ****,
Ironically,
Rosebud's
The most heinous.

And ***** pics
Of ***** and chicks
Are also known
As Rosebud Flicks.
I by no means mean to disrespect Joe's challenge. Just got me to thinking.
Rosebud is a known euphemism for ****.
Rosebud is a known form of ****.
And why do I know this crap?
Jean Rojas Apr 2015
God’s little bud of rose
Reflects like a dainty prose
In lines that so sweetly glows
From veins that so lovingly flows

God’s little doer of deeds
Into souls might her goodness feed
The scroll of life
Unfolds and then reads
She is what this hopeless world
Sadly needs….

In life she moved a hero’s pace
Without doubt on her pious face
She who felt that holy embrace
Now is done with her ultimate race

Quietly rest, tender rosebud
Nurture that love in your heart
For us mortals alive,
We must continue to battle
The wars in ourselves
Never to know
When our precious sanity ends…

Fragrant rosebud of white
Gone-but not forgotten
You lived as soft and mellow
As the morning rain
Sowing your seeds of knowledge
And gain
As God’s own champion
You died not in vain…
In memory of Helen Lucille Seaboch (2002)