The Brackish Rose

 Brackish, dark, the lips that refuse
to break into a smile,
the roses in your yard
are tinted blackish red.
And yet the perfume, aggressively starts
to move across the borders between the walls.
I respect your silence, your silent watch
melting and letting an estuary form
to let the fresh-water flow.
The brine will never turn sweet,
yet with a tinge of the bland
the balance may tilt towards a thaw
.
The manuals and the codes that the sea and the sand,
the rivers and the ponds, they derive their sense from the geographies,
 the times and the climates of ancient lands.
Shakespeare will not shake hands
with the Jew of Malta in a foreign land.

Moreover, the prehistoric, regressive beings
will retreat behind walls
on the scent of civilized aeroplanes
high over their heads in the sky.

The brackish rose will smell as sweet, though,
it's hard to lose the dark glow.

 20 Sept. 2015.
Image result for Image of Brackish Rose

Comments

  1. Sem Xtz29 January 2020 at 11:06

    Acest poem ca un trandafir ieșit din stiloul tău.
    Mii de mulțumiri.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Sushama Karnik7 March 2021 at 06:32

      "This poem is like a rose out of your pen!" Thanks for this glorious compliment Sem Xtz.

      Delete

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