The Azure Rose

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The sky gave way to philanthropy
And slid sorrow into the earth.
From azure tears bloomed roses
And from there, a heart gave birth.
To shallow scores of eternity
That seemed to fall in spades;
Became, of new, a solemn thought
For a newborn love’s true fate.

From sorrow-wept tears of mercy,
From bound vines that caught on wrists.
Into an ocean where many have drowned
Let loose my only wish.
To be torn to pieces and caught in the breeze
As tatters of what was once.
To be thrown into the sky and clouds
And bound once again as one.

And released to earth, to azure rose
To nurture, love, and believe.
The sorrow that was once so close
Had all but just left me.
And the azure rose stood in it’s place,
Beautiful, strong, and grown.
Perfect in it’s every way
And protected by its thorns.

The lions of loss and loveless optimism
Caught long in their tracks,
Scratched and torn by roses thorns
And retreated back.
And all else that would disturb the bloom,
All else that might defy
Speared, and rendered less than a threat,
Until left then to die.

And azure rose still standing strong,
No more ghost than you or I,
Stood proud as the lion foe it had fought
With a gratitude to the azure sky.

This is all about love lost and love found. And the idea of love itself. The rose represents true love, both beautiful, powerful, and painful if treated lightly. The blue in the rose represents the rarity of true love, and the sometimes believed misconception that it doesn’t exist at all. (On a side not, I do believe in the blue rose, and WILL someday find one. Also believe in true love but if you’ve read any of my poetry in the past, you already know that.)

The beginning is all about first love, and the dangers of getting too deep in. And the end represents new love, true love. Afterall, true love is better than first love.

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About Mattie J.

My name is Mattie J. Hamilton, and I am seventeen years old. I live in a cute little house in the country in Southern Indiana, and have lived there my entire life. I self-published two books of poetry a few years ago, but I much prefer writing fiction of poetry, journalism, or any other sort of writing. I'm somewhat new to the blogging world, and I may come off as a bit of an ameteur, but hey, I am an ameteur. Proud of it. After all, I'm just a kid, and I have plenty of time to learn.

6 responses »

  1. I’m surprised that no one has commented yet because this poem is beautiful. I sometimes thought that a rose was sometimes a clique love symbol, but you turned it around and made it your own. I love the idea of an “azure” rose. It gives it orginality. I hope everyone has a chance to find their blue rose.

    • I’ve never really been a fan of cliches, but I love roses and always have. When I was little I walked up on a close friend of mine with a rose. His fingers were bloody and torn up and when I asked him about it, he looked up innocently and said, “I was pulling out the thorns so that they wouldn’t hurt your hands when I gave it to you.” It was the cutest thing ever, looking back.

      And everyone has a blue rose I believe. It’s only a matter of finding it.

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