"The Rose"

March 25, 2011
By Ryan Blackwell BRONZE, St. Peters, Missouri
Ryan Blackwell BRONZE, St. Peters, Missouri
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

A red rose sprung hope into his journey.
Passion never seen, brought upon by an everlasting kiss.
He tasted the world, from the peaks of mountains to the depths of valleys.

His love, as fresh as April air, was documented by all.
Far and distant, yet soothing to the soul,
like a sapphire sky on a horizon far beyond
a hundred snow-covered hills where that red rose lies.

Frolic in the summer as though fall will never come.
In the heat of a moment, at the peak of his passion
a man is blissfully blinded; too much so to see the damage
he has done to that red rose that still remains.

Left with a murmur... The screams, beaten to death,
remain as a deafening quiet. His voice has fallen astray,
much like the pedals of that weathered rose
that has seen better days.

A dead rose now lies upon his rusty metallic tomb
as a cold winter breeze gives way to memories that float in the thin air…
Memories as sweet as the melody of a red rose in spring, bursting into life.

The author's comments:
I wrote this poem after thinking about my first breakup. It made me think about how the relationship started out so fresh and exciting, and eventually, it just continued to decay until its death. This, I believe, is parallel to life. Things always start fresh and exciting, and it is a challenge to keep that spirit alive. It's possible that a person will thrive and be happy their entire life. But it's hard work. Sometimes you float. Sometimes you sink. The man in this poem sank. What is left after he is gone are the memories of when things were fresh and full of life, just like a red rose in spring. I guess you could call this a ballad, because it is a trip through the man's life. In spring, he finds his spark. In summer, things are great, in fall his decay begins, and winter brings his death---just like a rose.

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