The original version of Rose Red, titled Rose Red River Bled, has been published in All of Me Vol. III, courtesy of Shadow Spark Publishing.

Listen to Rose Red by Richard Charles Stevens (Mirrors Suite)

Listen to Mirrors by Kn1ght

It is midnight in the garden
Of my dreams
.
It is midnight in the garden
Of my dreams
Through the dimmed lights
My heart in fervour beats
Northern seas they swirl to greet the ardent breeze of furled mystique
Antique throne of pearl bespeaks the majesty of romantique
Through flimsy veil of travesty
The eyes of whimsy peek
Reality meets fantasy beneath the moonlit canopy
Absent to the fallacy of thieves
Absent to the fallacy of thieves
.
There is blood upon my greaves
As my heart in honour weeps
While my body’s tears bleed longingly for She
Showering the grounds with ruby spears
Abounding souvenirs of untold tales regaled
Each time I bleed
Godspeed they dress the blessed caress of finger tips that lend finessed address to evanescence
Thence remember nonetheless
.
The deep impression left by She
In acquiescence of a love which never lessens
Never less than treasured essence
And the glee of free expression
In our keep complete discretion
To release increasing pressure
Seek the pleasure in forever
Better dream
.
The deep impression left by She
In acquiescence of a love which never lessens
Never less than treasured essence
And the glee of free expression
In our keep complete discretion
To release increasing pressure
Seek the pleasure in forever
Better dream
.
She is glass to see right through
One true reflection of perfection
Ever due sincere affection
Only fools would see denied
A vision in crystalline
Light and shade hybrid
With smile cut from diamonds
And razor blade eyelids
No sight have I to prize quite so divine
.
The leaves of her regalia are rusted
Thus the laurel wreath entrusted
Shines the bust of every scar
Dusted with the stars
She charms in passing
Glancing sweetly
As beneath she leads a most seductive dance
.
Making theatre bizarre of all grievous harm
Wherein darkness seeps
Hearkening advances
Taking its chances at twisting her branches
With fingertips whispered and unstinting glances
In keeping with her mastery
Each darkening enhances She
For every question asked
Her eyes are keen to speak the answers
Mastermind the kind of bleed
Indeed divine
Of timely deed
To seed her truths at root of trees that shoot in bloom
Costuming ease
Too free to be groomed by assuming breeze
Unceasingly perfumed these truths she bleeds
.
Rose red river
Giver of the only seamless dreams I ever dreamt
Coming hither to deliver message sent
So many centuries redressed
Through hell’s high waters altered course
Absorbing stalks of reeds agreed to better dress the essence of forever’s relished scent
Twinning planes of thinning veins
Impulsed embrace coagulating
Clots of love
Forget-me-nots fit hand in glove with singing praises
Making daisies into chains
Engraving names in ankle bracelets
.
It is midnight in the garden
Of my dreams
Through the dimmed lights
My heart in fervour beats
.
Her spilled tears
My red wine
Vital fluids
My spine
Others read between the lines
She bleeds sweetly inside them
Redeeming her deepest desire to reprise them
Keen to oblige them the freedom they seek
Each silence confided bespeaks her uniqueness
Each unspoken word can be heard in completeness
Tendering strength to undress of infirmity
Rendering speechless the voice of uncertainty
Weaving the skies as she seamlessly glides
Through the dreams She designs for eternity
.
Through bluster of night to the lustre of day
Crimson the single tear shed
One of one in but one in a million
In vermilion bled
For every time I rest my weary head
Familiar its gloss abreast of every dream I ever dreamt
Filling each pavilion from mezzanine to atrium
Overspilling willing to see blessèd this palladium
In everlong procession of the rose red river bled
.
It is midnight in the garden
Of my dreams
Through the dimmed lights
My heart in fervour beats
Northern seas they swirl to greet the ardent breeze of furled mystique
Antique throne of pearl bespeaks the majesty of romantique
(She)
.

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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