A Dozen Roses Poem by A.J. McKinley
A Dozen Roses
The wilted roses sat regally in the vase.
Their beauty never more apparent than their now decay.
The petals fall listlessly onto the carpet.
She never notices the thorns have no points.
Is it pride or vanity that rules the rose?
She whispers it is benign beauty that sins.
Dying slowly with no remorse.
Perfumed fragments tantalize the passers-by.
A dozen roses on the naked mantle.
A tear drops and my roses cry.
This is beautiful A.J. Mckinley, I loved your poem. You are very talented. This is beautiful. Take care.
A dozen roses on the naked mantle. A tear drops and my roses cry. What a couplet. The language has a crispness there, that I love. The whole poem is marvellous.
idk y but i have tears in my eyes that is a precious poem :)
The poignancy of your verse is truly haunting in the centre of the context about the rose that is dying. A parallel is met with the human existence in this very beautiful poem that cries aloud in its temerity. Thanks, Arya
A.J. what an enchanting little piece. I wonder why roses always seem to be a poets favourite flower. I've used it many times myself. The delicate way you describe the withering rose is very visual and sad. The poems is beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.10/10 from me. David
Amazing imagery and written with a delicate style so characteristic of the roses in question. Beautifully done! Brian
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 7:09:45 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Absolutely Beautiful! !