Looking down on my garden
of moonlit  flowers
 I need to be loved like  roses.
That  silvery blade of  crescent
moon slips  through nameless
things on winged feet flitting
among  zoysia nipping at life
with amorous teeth.

118 thoughts on “Loved Like Roses”

  7. I need to find that chatty little thing –

    that chatty little grinning thing
    that sits at the edge of the table
    and curls like a puppy
    on firm,
    gentle thighs –
    telling her how she’ll be treasured tonight.

    Much like those cracks in her smile
    and her wings,
    those thighs are
    far less brave than they might seem,
    for all the symbolism on that belt buckle.

    She’s more like that fray on the edge of her shorts…
    an end of something,
    hoping not to tumble out and disappear
    before he says something funny again

    and laces the fear between giggles with something like kindness.

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      1. Your poetry is always enchanting, Rene, and I especially love how you end with a line or lines that create such expressive visions. I have to listen to my Head Elves ohh-ing and ahh-ing for an hour before I can get them to go back to work creating mischief and mayhem.

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  12. Short and sweet, and filled with the perfume of needy roses.
    I think the more you love them, the more they love back.
    It seems the more I read your poems, the more they love me back.
    Just ask the zoysia…. if it hasn’t mentioned it, already!
    xoxoxo

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  35. The Chines say butterflies are the souls of the dearly departed who come and visit us.
    Thank you for your words are usual, Coeur de Feu.
    (How on earth do you say “Papillon” in German?)

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      1. Is that right? Might be to cold? Never saw any in the Netherlands either that I recall…
        Schmetterling is the word. A pretty word. Reminds me of Mayerling… 🦋 (Ein blau Schmetterling für dich?)

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