Orange Rose - Parody John Boyle O’reilly – A White Rose Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

White rose peeps, weeps too purely,
while red shows scarlet sins,
subjectivism’s surely
a set of moral gins.

Yet an orange rose shows gaily,
a ball of fire and flame,
but when it blows away we
may ask - “what’s in a name? ”

Both white and red demurely
like angels sit on pins
and needles - immaturely
lapelled ere bloom begins; -

But an orange! rows of trees we
plant carefully and claim
the orange rose to tease, - see
love came to play the game.

Though passion in a fashion
attracts at Valentine's
true love one should not ration
to sprightly Columbines.

Some send bud blood, cream, peachy,
flush plush on petal tips,
with a dress from Nina Ricci
and a wallet full of tips,

I, eyeing orange grandeur,
from red, white, thorny, change, -
chromatic spectrum's splendour
finds preconceptions strange

as love to true beholder
no colours sees but stream
whose energies true hold a
soul's music, tender dreams.

Poor falcon wings so lonely,
no rhyme therewith we find,
and as for love there's only
above glove, dove, - shove signed!

That red rose wings like falcon,
that white dove rhymes with love,
may colour poets' balcon
-y pruned by critic's glove,

yet an Orange rose flamboyant
leaves red, white, in the shade,
its petals bright flame, buoyant
of such are poems made...