Rose
by Jennifer Lambert
There was a beautiful rose,
But its petals it would not expose.
Instead, it insisted to enclose
The petals of which you read.
It would not bloom,
So I presume,
It would not show what was entombed
To you, the reader, frankly whom
Want to see
The petals of which you read.
It tried and soon,
The night, not noon,
(Under the moon),
It bloomed maroon.
And the rose of which you read,
Was beautiful; beautiful indeed! |
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A
Dedication to the
Spirit of the Wild:
The Wolf
by Jill Firns
Muscles ripple
Trees topple
In effort to let you
Run swiftly past.
Eyes flash
Feet fly
But no shadow
Do you cast.
Pack follows
Prey flees
Wide open world
Forever your home.
Plains run
Hills tumble
Wander so far
But you have yet to roam.
Storms roar
Winds howl
Though your feet
Are always steady.
Change comes
Earth shifts
But for everything
You are ready.
Years come
Years cease
Through all this
You remain the same.
Great lover
Great killer
Great creature you are,
Not wild, not tame. |