The Rose

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There sits a rose on the top of a hill
that not many have dared to climb
For if one ever got to the top of this hill
they’d feel nothing short of divine
They say the climb is threatening to life
The dangers are more than a few
But once you meet the rose at it’s heavenly height
the Love will enchant within you
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Enlightened by wonder and on a quest for Love
I traveled to this tell tale place
I looked up to the top from my bottom view
The blood rushed right out of my face
Scared to move closer, challenged by fear
And then the hill began to glow
It invited me up so I started to climb
There was something it didn’t want me to know
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I was halfway up when I looked down to the ground
and the wind almost blew me away
Then a vine appeared so I grabbed on tight
and kept going up on my way
Gasp by gasp I knew I was close
when the vibrant red light warmed the air
I felt the beauty enter my heart
Nothing else could even compare
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I finally pulled towards the end of the way
and the rose appeared to shine
I reach up in hopes to touch the rose
but I needed one more pull up the vine
I pulled with my life, my eyes glued to the rose
and a thorn pricked my hand and I gave
So I started to fall towards the pull of Love’s spell
and I fell right into my grave
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4 Comments so far

  1.   Pru on October 17th, 2011

    the picture you put along with the poem fits perfectly!!!!! The last few lines make me think that love killed this person…is that what you are saying? In any case I love the poem!

  2.   margarita on October 17th, 2011

    I love this poem and nice touch with the picture, that way the poems becomes much more vivid. I like the fact that your poem rhymes and as it progresses it tells a story. It seems like such a shame that you were almost at the top and then due to one prick it all went to bits and pieces. Good job tho, real talent here.

  3.   jenny abeles on October 18th, 2011

    I like how Margarita put that!

    The bethorned rose is such an apt metaphor for love, which is often beautiful, but painful and unable to live as long as we want it to. Your placing the rose atop a steep mountain further shows us how much real work and struggle goes into achieving love–that old psychologist’s cliche about how relationships need hard work–and we have to commit ourselves deeply to that struggle as well as to the beauty of love if we really want it in our lives. Your extended metaphor works on an emotional level.

    My only suggestion for improving this poem is to consider it creatively on the word level, making sure each word is as evocative, meaningful, resonant, and intriguing as can possibly be.

    The last line is wonderful: “and I fell right into my grave” It has a folkloric, timeless ring to it, and the rhyme and meter suddenly help make it apparent that this is the only, inevitable ending this poem could possibly have. Such finality and resolution.

    Any revision you do should be done on a word-level, I think, making each word as evocative, necessary, meaningful, and captivating as can be. “tell tale” to describe the “place” doesn’t grab me, and “blood rushed right out…”–the “right seems like filler; if you need a syllable there why not come up with a more intriguing, 2-syllable word for “rushed”? Personally, I would have a lot of fun with that part of the process.

  4.   samantha on October 18th, 2011

    The poem is way to wordy. This is actually the condensed version. It was a lot worse before. There were words that I put in there for fillers and you found them haha I guess I was more interested in telling the story than making it work lyrically which shows. I’ll continue to work on it.

    To clear things up, The rose is not actually a metaphor for love. The rose is the deception of love. Love is something that can not be found out of a conquest. A person can be blinded by determination to find love but love is not something that can just be found. So the story ends with the person dying, which is a metaphor for failure.

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