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Jean Lewis Feb 2018
A red rose is warmth
It is love
A blue rose is a phantom
It is refined guise
A purple rose is a special someone
Warmer than red and cooler than a blue one
A yellow rose is joy
Closely knit with the sun
An orange rose to represent enthusiasm
Fascination and passion
A pink rose for appreciation
Light but pretty
A white rose for purity and spirituality

How about a green rose?
Unique one but common like any other hue of a leaf
But think not about that
Deeper something lies

A black rose then?
Perhaps it is dead, a demonic, forlorn or forgotten
Yet remember this rose is a rose too just like all of you
Just planted on the wrong ***,
raised in a vile way,
watered with poison and plucked from the depths of Tartaros

How about I?
I am the BloodyRose
I may be any of the these roses
Oftentimes, I dream a field of white roses soaked in blood
I like the red rose
Because I too have a heart
Aspire to be a blue rose
In search of a refined self
Like the purple one,
because she has a share in the world of blue and red
I'm more of a green one
Because I myself don't understand
But I portray myself as a black rose...
Only when the other roses reach out will they see the true me.

In the end what matters is not my color,
but the hand that reaches out to me.
What will change me is the hand
who tries to understand me and cares for me.
Just as God is the shepherd to a sheep
A rose needs a gardener too.

I am the BloodyRose - rose soaked in blood...
It matters not whatever color I am
Because as long as my master gardener is here...
My color matters not...
All that matters is that hand reaching out to me
that plucked me
and took care of me...
BloodyRose
-Jean Lewis
Jean Lewis Feb 2018
Kiss the winds and waves goodbye
Empty your heart out into the sky
Zip your worries and everything will be fine
I will be here for you
Amidst, thorny roads, six feet below, horror movies or even hell
Help will come, I will send you an angel

May joy and laughter come your way
Adrift away you may lay
Remember even Hades and Tartaros will say
U may stay and have your way

Press your sword deeper into the foe
And you are sure to make them woe
Soar high and go far
Indulge yourself with the brightness of the star
Only you will ever know
Naught will you ever make you fade... warmer, brighter than a red rose, cooler and calmer than a blue rose too

You are the precious purple rose... :))
The Purple Rose
-Jean Lewis
touka Sep 2018
in mid-augusts breadth
the last gasps of doomed stars

like lions lacking breath

he is watching
as history repeats itself;
damns itself

the solipsist; the progeny
who cries under his mother's wing

the exodist
to exist
unfortunately, in shortage of sleep

where asphodels crouch
long cut from life's thicket
free from time's gouge
painless, from the thick of it

cast into tartaros
on the cape of ouranos

to fall from his ipseity
so long was serendipity

his father's testament;
the panegyric on death

his debt, his deficit
of what he is bereft

summer feet cross the border
to touch the winter sleet in its corner

and skin meets skin
the solipsist's gravest sin;
the sophist, where he sits,
sips on the blood of collision

more sure of "self"
than his mothers hands

the solipsist, to exist
in the shade of earth,
who inhibits
a pull, a push
×
leaves his soul above the room

— The End —