The Wilted Stem
By Poe Etiquette
Oh Rose, so high above me, meek
I lift thy dainty painted cheek
To meet the falling golden ray
Proud, I hold you here each day
I nurture you by earth's delight
And bear thee fast, through winter's spite
Thy late flesh in air adrift
The tender breeze to stars doth lift
No robin's wing, nor faerie, bright
Hath ascended to the height
Where now thy petals, once rubescent
Travel, past the snowy crescent
Thy silhouette; a shadow cast
Upon my frame, to thee steadfast
Hides me from the winsome grace
That rests upon thy precious face
That serenity from in the sky
That colours thee a crimson dye
But light is not for me to know
For what have I, this stem, to show?
A slender stalk whose only aim
Is to preserve and love thy name
Oh Rose, but know my only plea
To, by my life, give health to thee
And so we stood, as you are told
Happy to the other, hold
But reader, there are yet lines left
Would that they had been bereft
For now this tale turns tragedy
And what was once, can no more be
For tho' stood we in fidelity
The sun, for her, held silent envy
And once, upon a day, most sour
From my body, plucked the flow'r
Bathed her in his haughty light
From early morn, till deepened night
I, waiting, gazed up, fervently
Imploring she return to me
Though eager, nothing new I learned
And to my side, she ne'er returned
Her eyes had, by the light, been swayed
And in his sight, eternal stayed
And now, what with no name to praise?
I shall deliver back my days
To the cradle of my birth
Surrender, I unto the earth
Wilted, drooping down my head
I lie, fading in this empty bed
Awards
Comments on "The Wilted Stem"
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A former member wrote:
This is talent...very beautiful. Keep it up.
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A former member wrote:
I found significance in this piece in so many ways. The post traumatically
stressed and angered toward the sun birthed from repetitive years of mourning during the day ][ ][