The Rose

byGoldeniangel©

Petals pink unfolding
to reveal the inner sanctum
of dewy drops
and sweet perfume
that tantalizes
a budding rose of promise
whose delicate folds
empower the earth.

A ripe plum invades
presses forward on a pole
the petals are not bruised
they do not tear
instead they spread apart
like a willow in the wind
accepting
yielding
opening for the invasion.

Women bend
they do not break
beneath the steady onslaught
of moving hips
and grunting passion
they rise to meet the challenge
until, like two hawks
she and her partner
lease the jesses
and find glorious flight.

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byGoldeniangel© 2 comments/ 12839 views/ 3 favorites

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous05/21/14

From Flowers to Falconry

The worst thing to happen to a poem is when a poet tries to be clever - especially about subject matters they are unfamiliar with. Your poem began well. It's a tired metaphor that's been done way toomore...

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