Rosebud

Another poem. I'm not sure if I even like this one. It just jumped into my head one day.

It was a little budding rose,
growing in the morning’s dew,
fragrant petals curled in on each other,
blushing ever-so-softly under the moon.
After my gentle touch, the petals unfolded,
revealing a beauty cloaked in red,
her smooth skin rosy with blush,
rose petals decorating her head.

She tried to act tough,
warned me of her thorns,
but her rosy blush was revealing enough:
she wanted me to love her more.

Now I lay her down, whisper,
"My little rosebud, let me sing you to sleep."
Her eyes begin to close
and it’s dew drops she starts to weep.
When asked why she’s crying,
she just shakes her head.
"I’m just happy," she says,
And I place my lips on her rose-colored head.

You may not like it, but I did... a lot. It was good. Often the ones that just just into your head are the best ones because they are pure inspiration. I do my best work just jotting something down before I hit the hay so I don't forget it, than when I sit down and force words onto the paper. It was good! Keep Writing!

I really enjoyed this! I agree with Ignatius5453. Sometimes the first thoughts that pop into our heads come out to be great. I love the visual of communicating with the rose. The rose could also be seen as a metaphor for communicating with someone else.

Not exactly sure what this is supposed to mean? Who is the 'rose' supposed to be? I liked the imagery and the way it was written, although it was a tad cliche'. Anyway. Good job, it was cute and made me smile.

I love the way it starts out with such beautiful and rich imagery. I thought it was going to be more of a love poem when I started reading, but by the third stanza I was like, "OMgod, this is ah-mah-zhing."

It was a little budding rose,
growing in the morning’s dew,
fragrant petals curled in on each other,
blushing ever-so-softly under the moon.
After my gentle touch, the petals unfolded,
revealing a beauty cloaked in red,
her smooth skin rosy with blush,
rose petals decorating her head.

The first stanza was lovely because there was so much attention and detail put on the flower, it was like you were setting the opening scene of a play.

She tried to act tough,
warned me of her thorns,
but her rosy blush was revealing enough:
she wanted me to love her more.

The second stanza wasn't really my favorite, but I love how now it's focusing on her, as if she were the main character to the play.

Now I lay her down, whisper,
"My little rosebud, let me sing you to sleep."
Her eyes begin to close
and it’s dew drops she starts to weep.
When asked why she’s crying,
she just shakes her head.
"I’m just happy," she says,
And I place my lips on her rose-colored head.

This really gets into the juice, the story, the base of the story. You bring in the narrator more as a character them self. Around here, though, I love how things start to take a twist down further. It's like I'm seeing the black shadows of a rose in the center of it. I actually thought of death when I read this chapter. Singing someone to sleep makes me think that it's like the end of her life, I thought maybe winter was coming or something. The way she's crying, maybe she's happy because she can finally get rest and peace with death. I especially thought of the last line, "And I place my lips on her rose-colored head." as the kiss of death.

But that's just meh interpretation. I really did like it, though. : )