Lunar Tales of Roses Lost

[Moonwolf]

Here's one of my first tries at free verse (I'm not a huge fan of it, I prefer structure, but it can be an interesting structure all its own sometimes).


“Lunar Tales of Roses Lost”

A rose
Sits quietly on the ground
Bathed in silvery moonlight.
It’s petals, normally blood red,
Appear black in the night
It lies on the ground, silent and still,
Half remembered, half forgotten.
But, for me, it will always be remembered.
I recall the night she dropped it.
The dew now on its petals remind
Me of the tears that spilled
Off her cheek that night.
She had always run to me for help
But that night all I could offer
Was silent company.
All I ever offered was silent company.
Before that night it had been enough.
She told me the sad tale
Of her love that was lost.
How he died to save her.
He had been killed by
A blow that should’ve killed her.
She blamed herself that night
For everything that happened.
Kept telling herself she should’ve moved.
That she should’ve dodged the sword
Instead of being frozen with fear.
All of this comes rushing back to me
In a wave of memory, I can never forget.
Like the pull I create on the waves,
Time’s memories pull on my mind.
I, the moon, watch silently as yet another
Rose is dropped by the riverbank
Seconds before another grief-stricken woman
Jumps into the dark river’s embrace.
River water splashes like tears onto
The blood red petals of the silent rose.

[Seer Fox]

“Baker Tales of Baguettes Eaten”

A baguette
Lies scrumptiously on the tray
Bathed in silvery butter.
It’s crust, normally golden brown,
Appears delicious in the night
It lies on the tray, bready and tasty,
Half eaten, half not.
But, for me, it will always be eaten.
I recall the night I made it.
The lettuce now on its crust reminds
Me of the sauce that spilled
Off my apron that night.
I had always run to the butchers for ingredients
But that night all I could offer
Was a croissant.
All I ever offered was a croissant.
Before that night it had been enough.
I told him the sad tale
Of my fridge that was empty.
How I baked to pay him.
It had been emptied by
A cake that should’ve filled me.
I blamed myself that night
For everything that happened.
Kept telling myself I should’ve added more cheese.
That I should’ve used the cream
Instead of using frozen yoghurt.
All of this comes rushing back to me
In a wave of memory, I can never forget.
Like the topping I create on the tarts,
The butchers meats smell on my bread.
I, the baker, watch deliciously as yet another
baguette is made in the oven
Seconds before another delicious baguette
Jumps into the dark mouth’s embrace.
Saliva splashes like sauce onto
The golden brown crust of the delicious baguette.

Made it better for you.


Ciat,
Seer Fox

[jazen]

Seer, be nice please.

It's a beautiful poem. I like the story it tells, its touching.

In a wave of memory, I can never forget.

I would put 'I can never forget' on a seperate line.

The dew now on its petals remind
Me of the tears that spilled
Off her cheek that night

Thats the longest part without punctuation, and when paying attention to the punctuation it felt slightly out of place, but I cant think of anything to do instead, and it works I guess.

Congratulations for a good poem.

[Seer Fox]

Seer, be nice please.

Yes mum.

Ciat,
Seer Fox