The Inconspicuous Exit Of Madam Rose

The rose turned yellow, then wore a grey fur
To keep her warm against condensation
Which worked from her source to try to woo her
But merely murdered their shared elation.
And still she opened her lips to heaven,
Assured of her worth, willing hope to fall,
Knowing her bearded neck wouldn’t leaven
And owning nothing but her strangled call.
Her leaves pressed against her, ready to mourn
The innocent beauty’s premature death
Which made bloodied lips all the more forlorn
As she choked on regurgitated breaths.
Such grandiose promises quickly die
And splatter themselves on the creaking sky.

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Leja
Review
Leja wrote a review · Sun Nov 11, 2007 4:58 am

Ooh, I like the title. Content = loveliness. So I shall nitpick word choice ^_^

The rose turned yellow, then[Seems like an unnecessary word and almost makes this first line seem too simplistic] wore[coupled with "turned" from earlier in the line, these are bland words that could be more... significant] a grey fur
To keep her warm against condensation
Which worked from her source[I have no idea what this means] to try to[I think "and" would work better here] woo her[And now I'm a bit confused; what was wooing her?]
But merely murdered[you might want to stick a pronoun somewhere before this point to clarify who murdered the elation] their shared elation.
And still she opened her lips to heaven,[I like the petals/lips idea, but "to heaven" seems such a common phrase]
Assured of her worth, willing hope to fall,
Knowing her bearded neck wouldn’t leaven
And owning nothing but her strangled call. ["call seems like it's here to fit the rhyme rather than the line]
Her leaves pressed against her[I think the repetition of "her" sounds awkward, but I understand why it's here too...], ready to mourn
The innocent beauty’s[I almost want to say that this is vague, but it doesn't really lend itself to being expanded upon] premature death
Which made bloodied lips all the more forlorn
As she choked on regurgitated breaths. [Nice]
Such grandiose promises quickly die
And splatter themselves on the creaking sky. [I like these last two lines in and of themselves and also as an ending to the poem. And "creaking sky" is cool too]


PM me if you have any questions ^_^
-Amelia



We are great at fearing the wrong things.
— Hank Green