The Black Rose- poetry

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Yes, more Harry Potter! This poem, however, does not really relate to anything in the Wizarding world. It is about a black rose... A deadly one!

Submitted: July 16, 2012

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Submitted: July 16, 2012



The Black Rose

Gently in her stark and pale palm
With velvet petals fingered by misty dew
Curled up with poignant perfection
Lays the spiraling manifestation of
Her conflicted and pounding heart,
Absent of all cheery colors
Yet does a rainbow burst forth from
Each prism drop hugging each ambrosial vein
Mesmerizing with its taunting
Spectral shadows:
The black rose

Like the rare blue moon
Does it invoke awe and magnificence;
And like the phoenix flame
Does its simple elegance illuminate a darkened hall;
Like the pure angelic unicorn
Does it whisper softly of protection
Of the beauty of life;
And like a flick of a wand
Does it have its own aspiring spell:
The black rose

Born in the silvery sea
From the sea maid's vampiric melody;
Growing among the Grindylows,
Drinking in the rays of golden sun,
Absorbing each jeweled hue that floats on by
And bleeding out the drowned sailor's sorrows;
Plucked when innocence meets the azure night;
Preserved in virgin's tears, sung a sweet lullaby:
The black rose

Thorns imbibed with siren's venom
Yet left its victim sighing so peacefully;
And there it lay upon her stark, pale hand,
Slowly painted by the seeping scarlet color
Of life's essence, of her wild, unchaste dreams,
Enchanting in all its deep and dark glory;
So soft, supple, and binding:
The black rose

A simple kiss of death,
Frozen, yet voluptuous
And as vast as the starry galaxies
That swirl the chilled heavens above...
Subtle, enticing,
The smooth, enriching touch of a luscious cloud:
The black rose

Only mere inches from
The hard, unforgiving ground;
The pale, limp, icy hand
A cushioned barrier,
A heaven's retreat:
The black rose

Aglow in all its splendor,
The ebb of her soul
Sinks into its vicious and
Cruel, charcoal heart:
The black rose

No lament sounds-
Only the steady pulse
Of its devilish veins:
The black rose

A new snowfall lightly
Brushes its tender petals:
The black rose

Sent by an enemy; a lover:
The decadent, black rose

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