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Amber Blank Jul 2013
We all know the story of Romeo and Juliet
But this is the untold story of another fair, beautiful Capulet
Rosaline as you may come to know
Met her demise at the hands of a Montague

She was the first object of dear Romeo's affection
But for dainty Rosaline, Romeo was not her selection.

He desperately tried to win her gaze.
She would only give hints to her hearts twisting maze.
Faithful to her vows of chastity
Another Montague held her key.

Benvolio stole her heart and won her affection
From first glance she was swept away, a true connection
Like the gentle lullaby of a nightingale
Her soul composed a symphony on his instrument could play

Kissed like the petals of a rose by the morning dew
A simple touch of his hand created a overwhelming sensation only they knew
Secretly inseparable, hidden romance
Their houses would not understand, so they took a very risky chance.

Until the day of that faithful fray between Capulet and Montague
Rosaline was caught in the crossfire of the two
Trying to keep the peace she lunged ahead
And at the hand of her true love she was dead.

He had not even a heartbeat to react.
Blinded by hate, a moment he could never take back.
Plagued by loss and despair
As if his lungs had been drained of air.

As the life left her eyes
He died inside.
Tragedy washed over their houses.
And in the end,
Hate won the war,
Love was left mangled and destroyed.
Lissa Heli Nov 2012
A girl by the name of Josephine
was once destined to be a great queen
married off to a prince, a boy
but never let her true feelings show
for she was in love, this was true
but not with the prince, a boy
her true love she could not enjoy
there were stolen kisses
snuck out at night for passion so vicious
don't get caught my sweet Josephine
for the two of you they will get in between
you see Josephine's love was forbidden
with a girl by the name of Rosaline, so it's best to keep hidden
they spent countless nights enjoying eachother
with no cover but the warmth of the two lovers
but eventually everything must come to light
during an encouter of the sweetest kind
a night of moaning and arching of their back, everything felt so right
when the prince, a boy
caught both of them in the middle of their throws
while the girls were still clutching hard at the bed
he screamed ****** ****** "off with her head!"
So the his guards grabbed Rosaline
and led her to the guillotine
Josephine looked at her lover for the last time "Rosaline"
her deep brown eyes,golden skin, a girl so divine
before the blade was let loose, not even a scream
Josephine swore, she cried a whole stream
she drowned in her tears of sorrow and pain
the girls blood on the floor it did stain
when Josephine took her last breath upon the pool of her tears
she felt Rosaline's hands around her waist and her breath in her ear
saying "My sweet josephine, don't worry I'm here."
She believed that Rosaline did not die at the guillotine
but they died together without fear and completely serene.
Gavin Sebake  Jul 2017
Rosaline
Gavin Sebake Jul 2017
You held me captive around your arms,
Put me in peace within your essence,
Align me close to your heart with your perfection,
I see roses falling down your face,
My heart fainted before such beauty,
Rosaline!
What a beautiful name,
Like the beauty you posseses within your heart,
You drunk me slowly killing me with the framework of your beauty,
Rosaline!
You're a queen above queens,
"Tu eres mi Reina"
Your love is greater to persue me when i'm lost,
In temptations of your eyes you give me hope to recover,
For you are my rose,
"Rosaline".
©22 July 2017 - South Africa
Lunar Nov 2014
why do you act like hamlet,
all depressed and grieved,
for your own heart shuts me out,
and it's you who's deceived?

when did you think like othello,
murderous and violent,
irrational with decisions,
making me suffer with guilty silence?

how did you turn into macbeth,
from the silky words that grace your lips,
to the venomous fangs you bit back at me,
stinging like burning, sharp whips?

because i thought you were romeo,
with your adventurous soul and romantic antics.
now you've faded away,
with all your heroic tactics.

wherefore art thou, romeo?

don't call me juliet,
if i'm just another rosaline.
shakespeare's tragedies forever
Jahanvi Goyal Jul 2014
Gone with the wind is his old desire
Bright flowers of love bloom in his spring
Once who ruled his heart’s empire
I’ll die for Rosaline – he no longer will sing
Tenderness of this new flower
Bewitches heart and mind of Romeo
Charm of looks on both sides in power
Lovely Juliet and him, the magnificent duo
Alas! She is nothing but blood of enemy
And he, her enemy’s next of kin
In abstract lies the idea of him to see
To express to Juliet his love, and her heart win
Juliet’s love for Romeo is no less than him
Opportunity to meet her lover, for her more fleet
Infinity of time and power of love come to brim
Rise of sun to meet, overcoming the danger, so sweet
This is ACT II ; Scene 1 , the chorus. I have composed this myself on lines of Shakespeare
DrunkenAstronaut Oct 2017
Tears of Rosaline

The night of ballgowns and flashy lights
Marbles staircase and sumptuous jewelries
You left me here without a clue,
When your eyes had seen her beauty
You forgot the sweet words you said to me,
When you are already making promises with her
I was your first but then you choose your second and happens to be your last
You seem to be happy with her
But don't you know that I was already dying in grief?
You enjoyed your storhy, neither her
All of the who people happy with your so called great love
But, do they notice me also?
I, who was the unknown part of your story
I, who was the unknown character of your love story
And I, who was your invincible chapter?
I felt bad for Rosaline she was the unseen character in the story Romeo&Juliet
Simpleton  May 2013
Fantasy
Simpleton May 2013
I believe that fairy tales are just that: fairy tales.
Magic doesn't exist, and of course imagination is just that: imagination.

Something not real, an internalised, idealised creation.
Happy ever afters,
and Prince Charming hero's,
are just a lovers fantasy notions.

But we are there,
You know,
at that stage where Romeo is madly in love with...Rosaline.

Those evil family relations surround us and a wicked stepmother who overrules.
Girls everywhere are obsessed with being the fairest of them all,
Eagerly anticipating a dark and handsome: Mr. Tall.

Waiting on that fairy godmother to appear,
but its already too late because the wolfs already had his dinner,
and a sleeping beauty has yet to be kissed out of her nightmare.
sage Jul 2017
My heart is like a broken bone – it could be fixed, but will it ever really be the same as it once was?

Now,
I don’t believe it can be fixed anymore.

I feel like the sunset in black and white - losing the colour from my life, all because she never wanted me.

It’s as if she- the sun- has burnt out and left me – the blue moon – without a drop of light to warm me and bring back the colour I had lost from being alone.

If the stars were to align the same way, then there could be a beauty like her, but then without her smile, there are no stars in the sky, no light in my heart, nothing to look for in the lonely nights that push me to the ground over and over again.

If I were to look up from the stab wound in my chest, it would be to see her hand at the hilt – a devious smile painting her face with all the colours she has kept hidden from the world.

As the blood from my heart drains to the ground below me, I would drop to my knees, and paint the ground in crimson - my last colour left.

My blood would paint the story of my love for her, before my life is stolen away from me.

And yet the true irony of it all would be the love I hold for her until my last breath- and not even then would my feeling fade.

Long after my life has ended, my heart would still belong to her. It would still yearn for all the intricacies of her being.

Pandora’s Box has released itself on my heart, tearing at it as if it were a hungry lion attacking a peaceful gazelle.

I am forever drawn to her, as if my soul was trapped in her eyes.

The gods have turned against me, making my shadow grow, letting itself bleed through my veins and into my soul.

A soul with no colour should not be a soul at all.

I am forever burdened with no muse, no passion.  

I am a lone wolf, destined to lose my life without a love in the world.

No one to care for, no one to remember in the long nights.

No one.
an edited excerpt of an english assignment from years back. I got a B.
Isabella Terry Aug 2016
This is the story of my Juliet;

Of her Montague and his Capulet.

Roses smell sweet with no care of their name,

But with “Montague”, this just isn’t the same.



As a cruel joke, fate bonded their hearts,

For fate knew too well that they’d be torn apart;

Torn apart like the brawling in the public square,

Where Montagues and Capulets disagreed there.



I am the one whom Romeo loved,

Before he’d first seen his Capulet dove.

It happened quite fast, and inside the year,

We were something akin to the three musketeers.



We knew if the secretive lovers were caught,

They’d both be destroyed; impaled on the spot.

So I covered for them, and I helped them along,

And I did my best to sing over their song.



I witnessed the wedding, the friar’s compliance

In hopes that the families would form an alliance.

And while I had my doubts, I kept my lips sealed;

I allowed them to hope the tooth fairy was real.



Soon after that, I was with Romeo and his friend,

When Tybalt came along and caused Mercutio’s end.

I ran after Romeo, begging “Please! Use your head!”

But it was to no avail, and soon Tybalt was dead.



So Romeo was banished, and I sat with his wife;

I comforted her as she wept of her strife.

She was almost alright, but fate slipped on its gloves,

And she was betrothed to a man she couldn’t love.



Three times, I convinced her to put down her knife;

“You can do this, Capulet, don’t you take your own life!”

I spoke with the friar, and he had not a clue,

Till I formed a plan and a mysterious brew.



I sent a letter to Romeo, warning him of her sleep,

And so Juliet drank into slumber most deep.

Two days went past, then I felt my heart stop-

My letter had been returned, and Romeo’s address dropped.



I tripped a few times as I sprinted towards her grave,

All the while howling out Romeo’s name.

I leapt across ditches, I dashed around trees,

And I fount Montague, fallen to his knees.



“She is pure beauty, even in her death,”

Said Romeo as he took his last breath.

I lunged, and I screamed until my throat bled,

But bleed as I might, Romeo was now dead.



Juliet yawned, and it turned into a cry,

As the sight of his body burned into her eyes.

I stood up, hands shaking, and reached out to my friend,

But I knew this was a wound my soft words couldn’t mend.



“Juliet, don’t,” I pleaded weakly.

She shook her head sadly, said “I’m sorry, Rosaline.”

I held her small frame, and I felt her depart,

As she drove her own blade into her broken heart.



Montagues and Capulets sat together that day,

And they mourned their children and regretted their hate.

I stood up, though it pained me, and they looked distressed

At Juliet’s blood that soaked through my dress.



“This is your fault!” I yelled hoarsely at the lords.

“You ran your own children through with your swords!

If you are so noble, ordained from above,

How could you destroy their lives and their love!?”



“Don’t you dare let their sacrifices end in vain!

They were my friends, and they died so you’d change!

I hope you make peace, because your bigotry

Took Romeo and Juliet away from me!”



So it was, that the families have since lived in harmony,

But that is something that now hardly matters to me.

A rose by any name would still smell as sweet,

But if “Montague” was different…





This would not be a tragedy…
Eunoia  Sep 2017
Rosaline
Eunoia Sep 2017
No one knows my name,
I am the unseen character of 'Romeo and Juliet',
No one recognizes my pain,
For it was hidden between the pages,
Juliet's place should be mine,
I am the first one who holds his heart,
For Rosaline is the real name of Romeo's first love.
We can conclude that Rosaline is his first love while Juliet is his true love.
Lemongrass  Jun 2019
Rosaline
Lemongrass Jun 2019
We met in the midst of dust motes floating around the old chalkboard-classroom of University Hall. You introduced me to Amber – your close friend, I thought – and your thirst for after-tutorial Starbucks between 11:20 and 11:35 a.m. After all, what did it even matter to be five minutes late to class when we will all one day be so; what did it even matter if none of it ever really does when the curtain drops, when the record ends, when the symphony of consciousness rises to a close. So you went for Starbucks, and I walked to lecture alone – vying for that front-row chair so that I might ease the pain in my hips – and watched, noticed you in the months afterward, through red winter parkas and brown spring attire – until we met again in the odorous lab of second-year microbiology, and you drew me into your world of friends, of housemates, of late-night wine and cheese gatherings – until my heart – that soft, useless thing – quickened its beat upon hearing your stories of ex-crushes and Halloween near-hookups with a would-have-being-a-bad-decision girl. You drew me into you, you: an everyday girl, who in my daydreams was hardly so; I latched onto you and pulled myself out of that dark, solitary hole – because you were there, you were there, you were always there. I let myself be swept away by that river of friends, of daydreams, of late-night phone calls about life, the universe, and your complaints about organic chemistry. I turned a blind eye, because the illusion was far better than the solitude, better than watching my life collapse again into that small, small state. I let slide it all: the apathy, the sleep abnormalities, the ****** innuendos, until I texted you a few nights ago, two minutes into a rising panic initiated by the realization that my ex had killed themselves – a discovery that later proved to be untrue – and you replied with laughter and an inability to help. You just don't know; you just don't see that to complain of your ex-girlfriend's low libido is a reflection on you, not her, or even the two of you – so I put down the phone; I ignored the messages for a day, then two, and my world changed, opened anew –  
I can live without you.

— The End —