from my imaginary book, The Book of The Rose
or I just had an overwhelming feeling, sense about the image
of the Rose one day accumulating through all literary histories, known and unknown unconquerable Grace.
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rose of anonymity rose
of my lost way not ever
setting aside your
incomplete legends
the Marian legends
the Dantesque too
the Yeatsian and who knows who
or what or when
I attribute to you
these few rose quotations
may you forgive my
sighs incarnadine; rose
of a depth so singular
burning tigers cannot
rend you but
if they should, your
martyred shadow still
will be
beyond the dimming
battle lines
unfolding my last heart.'
the Word most dazzling I
dedicate to you may you impart
all lost arts
wherever
it is the poem that
flares on its own
so briefly is it sown
matchless as your clear Artisan
in a swirl of calligraphy
storms of hidden light
still not disclosed
my small bright universe enfolded
crimson beyond all crimsons
register every shade
addressing and enduring
every negligent age
mary angela douglas 17 november 2008; 29 september 2023
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem