When picking a rose,

choose the one with the most thorns. 

Once in your grasp,

close your hand with all your might

because you must learn to bleed

if you expect to be your own remedy.

She was a vibrant rose
And he was a  beautiful tulip

but the rose had thorns
piercing deeply into my skin
Her words and actions broke me to pieces

while the blood gushed
the tulip wrapped his arms
healing the wound from a waterfall of blood

both were beautiful but one was deadly

Will There Be Starlight
by Michael R. Burch

Will there be starlight
tonight
while she gathers
damask
and lilac
and sweet-scented heathers?

And will she find flowers,
or will she find thorns
guarding the petals
of roses unborn?

Will there be moonlight
tonight
while she gathers
seashells
and mussels
and albatross feathers?

And will she find treasure
or will she find pain
at the end of this rainbow
of moonlight on rain?

Published by The Chained Muse, Famous Poets and Poems, Grassroots Poetry, Inspirational Stories, Jenion, Poetry Webring, Starlight Archives, TALESetc, The Word (UK), Writ in Water

Keywords/Tags: Night, starlight, moonlight, mystery, flowers, roses, petals, thorns, seashells, feathers, rain, rainbow, treasure, *** of gold, romance, romantic, romanticism, love, passion, desire, longing

There is always this flower,
Ever so beautiful, Ever so lovely.
A flower that grows just right for my soul;
But a flower in someone else's garden.

I'd water her,
Each time I passed her by.
She grows no thorns to my skin,
Delicate to her very core.

But as she is beautiful,
Often attract other passersby.
They too would try to nurture her;
And often too she would fall for them.

How could I even save a flower;
That was never mine in the first place?

-HIY

my brooding force,
can I call you mine,
or is that audacious?
once so soft and welcoming,
I now feel your thorns,
poking and piercing my skin.
should I brush you away?
would you have that...
or would you draw blood?

roses' petals kept him,
                twirled him inside white throws,
         blanketed him in relief
and then sealed him up.
they painted him in pollen,
they walked him with stamens,
and he never looked up, either,
because his roses filled him.
they throbbed thorns beneath him
      that never struck him,
          and he never snuck down, either,
              because he had roses to swaddle him.
                     his roses kept him.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^'

9:49AM
Friday June 22, 2018

You turned my hair into flowers
A metaphoric bound you gave them
They became beautiful flowers that you enjoyed watching them bloom
But when I saw them as roses with thorns that cut me
You insisted they were soft daisies that brought protection
And when i brought out the scissors to cut them,set them loose,
Your anger came as a storm hissing on how I could do such a thing
On how I could **** something so beautiful
I howled for their beauty is exactly why I cut them
For I would like a bouquet to fence around me
These thorny roses shall do, keeping others out
But you insisted once again that they were daisies
You insisted that they gave a blanket of protection upon my shoulders,
That the river of hair down my spine was all I needed to be beautiful
-sol