Now we have new words, to make fun of older rhymes.
The wildest rose is white, or sometimes pink.
A thorn of tooth and claw and hedgerow powers.
How strange and sad it must be to think
That roses must be red: of artificial flowers –
For that’s labeling the rose as binary,
Divorced from context, as flattened red emoji:
But Rosa spansa spectrum: arbor, bush and vinery,
And there’s no straight answer in biology.
Why not have Rosa real, a thousand forms all true –
Some blooms blood-black, a prized diversity;
When eyes and words show violets are not blue,
Why not see truth? and in truth reality –
For I do love a garden, and I have roses three.
One red as rhymes, one white with faint pink edge.
My favorite’s orange-yellow, but still I love to see
The wildest rose: the answer in the hedge.
From nameless thorns, all others came unfurled –
This, then, is the complicated world.
I love Elodie’s poetry like I love her prose
so here, dear friend, I offer you a rose
or two, or three,
so many colours to see
they come in many shapes, and sizes too,
just like us human beings do
and if what nature gives us does not suffice
we can dye them all colours, isn’t that nice?
(I think there’s beauty and reassurance in this,
if, for example, you are not cis)
Sodomymcscurvylegs deserves flowers too
so here are some violets, definitely not blue
and anon deserves more than our scorn,
here is, just for them, a nice pointy thorn
LOOK AT THAT IT’S SO PRETTY AND NICE!! I love the couplets and the roses!!!
(with the benefit of distance, I’ve realized everything that’s wrong with my own poem, so please don’t read it again, but definitely look at @9thbutterfly ‘s clever flowers though)