A Rose Unfurls




Featured art by Maren Klemp. Click title image to visit her studio.




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Thomas Newman “Ghosts”





As the rose unfurled
I discerned her piquant face
My lips uncurled
For something deep within her leaflets stirred
Each of my senses then swirled to confer
Feelings imbued with the fragrance of grace


In musing, amusing myself with the light now diffusing
As though to prepare for embrace
Infusing the dew accruing due from her petals
Perusing the grounds of all surrounding nettles
I found oubliette
Of barbed thorns silhouetted
Reached in to request that I nestle


Dancing like daggers these teeth regimented
Prepared the suggestion I could soon lament this
Presumably defended by the circumstantial blades
Of substantial weight applied by countless days of shattered gaze
Fractures traced each captured vein
Her lacquered nails encased
Felt a calm innate that culminated expectations great


Gnawing ache once felt displaced
Compelled by traits related to the swelling throng of faith too long sedated
Should pain obtain facilitation
I would brace each fated wave and take it


As further then, the rose unfurled
Felt unperturbed that I was standing naked
In the sun kissed shade of rosebud lips paraded
They parted to impart the whispered kiss of crystal tryst
Wherein two hearts submit to chance midst continental drift


As further still, the rose unfurled
I reached within and felt a pinch
Fell to knees
Knew well this bleed would need to be seen to indeed
One solitary teardrop all I wept
Within which endless centuries be kept
Dids’t fall to quench the flower bed beneath


She flashed sweet smile
Beguilingly her rose red teeth
Then bled for me
I fed from every leaf bequeathed
The wedded tears of destiny
Arose from fate disgraced of name
And nestled in her fragrant mane


Curved akin to waxing moon the smile upon my once glum face
Compelled by lips of twosome throng that tell of faith through sootheful song for way beyond the everlong embraced
Both sun and the moon reacquainted with diamonds and pearls
My lip then uncurled
As the glistening hips of a rose in full blossom unfurled






Richard Charles Stevens


Keeper of The Crimson Quill




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1 Comment

  1. This:

    Knew well this bleed would need to be seen to indeed
    One solitary teardrop all I wept

    Roses are my favourite flower, and my name hails from the Rose of Sharon. The Hebrew “sharon” means “a plain or a level place.”

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