Parkland’s Valentine’s Day Roses

Parkland’s Roses

Valentine’s Day roses frozen in time,
on freshly turned earth wilts,
cut short by brass and lead,
in presses sweated and swaged
by us at piecework rates,
the roses names invisibly inscribed,
with a fatal day and time by fate.

Fate awaited the fingerprint,
of a sweaty, trigger finger,
a heart in a chest with hate pounding,
and a mind by murderous intent hounded,
to its purpose, acquisition of toll numbers,
and a notoriety in history
as the heinous demon, who chose to do this deed.

Having made cold steel its creed,
and colder still the heart,
inuring, the mind to dark apathy
it made blind those eyes to kith and kin,
to the roses and souls encased within,
and to lives with silver threads joined,
as we too are, we who are here.

Footnotes and pages,
in Time’s tremendous tome,
the roses still smell fresh there,
and in the sweet memory of those,
who tend with love moments past,
remain fresh, after malodorous intents,
are blotted out by Love into a scarred oblivion.

 

© 2018, Charlie Bottle. All rights reserved. © 2009 www.coelhos.us All Rights Reserved

Author: Charlie Bottle

Charlie Bottle's passion is poetry. He has lived on three continents, speaks five languages and loves different cultures, people, music and food. He believes that "Poetry uses the economy of words to express the essence of our humanity." It is this magical use of brevity to express the profound that drew him to poetry. While his professional and personal life has pulled him in different directions, He continues in his discipleship of the craft and writes whenever the muse moves him. While English is his second language it is the language in which he lives, breathes, thinks and writes poetry.