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Bryan Oct 2021
Trying to get

People to read

Of my thorns and roses

Is impossible.

Does it anyway.
Bryan Oct 2021
It's an oxymoron:
A blind man's vision,
Rehabilitative prison,
The poor politician.
It's an oxymoron:
Assisted suicide,
The creation of destruction,
The modest man's pride.
Bryan Oct 2021
Amidst the politicians,
decisions on propositions
positioned to requisition
this very nation's fate,
only leads to derelictions,
and weaknesses in convictions,
unending belligerences,
and finally, blind hate.
Banditos jumping fences,
to make it to better living...
this freedom is an incentive,
not a gift, so why wait?
People dying overseas,
Pollution and disease,
Brings the planet to its knees
And steak to your dinner plate
They think it's great!
they use the greed to cultivate the hate.
They squeeze upon the clamps
designed to encapsulate our fates
and in their avarice they find
the keys of heaven dissipate
between their fingers like the time
it took to make a bank so great,
but still they take, and they don't mind,
when you die sooner, now, or late,
cause they charge you for the diapers,
dinners, tax all that you've made,
Then they charge you for the service,
while they're waited on by maids,
but, yeah, okay, make your choice,
Between the men who make you slaves
And cast your vote, between two evils
Of slightly different shades.
Bryan Sep 2018
Please abstain from the abuse of alliteration, *******.

I will not stand for this silly slaughter of semantics.

Rules are recorded to retain responsible reactions to ridicule,

and it's infinitely irritating to innocent intellects.

Alliteration always annoys any and all astute attendees.

books should be blessed by benevolent bars

of velvet, virginal, valiant variation.

Not repugnant, retched, reconstituted repetition.

Always avoid any attempt at alliteration.
Bryan Nov 2017
Many miles east,
in the sand's rise and swell,
where the fire lived on earth,
and no one was there to tell,
a change did occur,
where no water could prevail:

In the heat, in the desert,
whose description matches hell,
the mountain bore witness
as a lone snowflake fell.
Thank you for reading this. I hope you read through the entire series. It is meant to be read like any other book, straight through like a story.

Here's part 1 in case you ended up here somehow:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2188305/the-thorn-of-roses-part-1-series/
Bryan Nov 2017
The change in her was drastic;
it happened almost instantly,
and standing there resplendent,
my wife smiled at me.
There were tears in her eyes,
and in mine, happily.
Not a force in this world
could have stopped us ******
from the embrace that quickly followed,
barely loose enough to breathe.
The contact was too short,
by a lifetime, or three,
before she started to explain
the curse on her family.

"Long ago, in the world,
there once lived an entity
who was friend to none:
All were his enemy.
My father's father's father,
and many fathers before he,
took upon himself the task
of slaying this ancient beast.
Using magic as a weapon,
my ancestors did believe
that they could clear away the desert,
and live amongst the trees.
The plan was much in favor,
and my people did agree
to use force to move a mountain,
but they paid the price for greed.
As the world was torn apart,
the entity then decreed
that the men who made this choice
would buy all that they need
with the source of all their joy:
With the blood of their own seed."

As she spoke to me,
sword in hand, I heard the ring:
The ring of truth in her words,
she continued enlightening.

"...But as it is with magic,
enactments are shared things,
and the men nor the mountain
knew the trouble this would bring.
When the kingdom needed rulers,
be they prince or queen or king,
a contest would begin,
from which rose or thorn would spring.
The winners lived to rule.
Losers served the entity.
The mountain would shade the forest,
or it would fly upon the wings
of the fire in the desert,
making ashes of the leaves
until the next generation
grew up to be offerings.
But as I said before,
magic is shared between.
Something must be traded
for the spell to be complete.
When the curse took effect,
and the mountain spoke to me,
I traded who I was,
to give you what you need.
I kept your heart in secret,
and saved you from The Queen,
who was agent of the mountain,
as we both have by now seen.
Had you not pierced my heart,
and then hers in search of me,
the sword that trims the rosebush
would have never been:
I would have lived, and would have died,
as a wretched, rotting thing.
...It was a gamble I accepted
in the faith you would be king.
Now with Thorn of Rose to guide,
and me to be your queen,
we have paid the price in pain
enough for joy to reign supreme.
Now bring THAT thorn, Mr. Prince,
and I will show you what I mean..."

She pulled me down onto the bed,
to celebrate our victory.
Bryan Nov 2017
Once again, the mirror shrank,
and once again, the mirror grew.
I deciphered what I saw
as room, in room, in room.

I was looking at myself,
looking at myself in view,
as I looked into the mirror.
The infinite only grew.
Yet, I saw there repeated,
frozen drops of dew
that rearranged into the face
of the only love I knew.

Then, I thought in haste,
reviewing every clue.
Every hurt upon this monster,
every word that I had used,
had bitten to the bone,
while I had wondered why, amused.
I had goaded Rumpelstiltskin
Just to see what he would do,
and I had wounded my dear love:
My worded thorns had run her through.
I was aching to the core,
and I must have looked confused,
for the wretched face before me
had a sentence left, or two:

"I can see from your tears,
and the quakes within your might,
that you've seen through your fears,
and you view me in new light.
It pains me to see
how against yourself you fight,
but in your heart and in your mind,
you know that you are right,
so pay us both the favor,
and end this curse's blight."

I did the only thing I could,
and said, "You are Snow White."
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