To Comfort A Rose... (Rep.) Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

The roses were perfectly sequenced,
single file, like Swiss Papal guards,
flouncing to the reel of hard wind,
stems in duress bowed at their tips,
inducing unfledged efflorescence-
from natures levy on verdant seed,
birth-marked to die limp and stunted.

Fatuous gardener who landscaped this,
must spend too much time in the grapes.
Roses were born to blossom in bunch,
stems intertwined with thorns enabling
space to breathe, yet bonded by root
from seeds of same for complexions sake.

Juxtapoitions were not placed for roses;
such fix is merely vantage for soldiers,
and food lines, drawn lines, two pairs of nines-
valentine massacres;
quite the stretch from when, where and how
a rose might find fertile comfort.



© MMXVI-All rights reserved
Frank James Ryan, Jr. / FjR


Revised/Reposted
Nov.15th,2016