The Rose Among Thorns Poem by Gerry Legister

Overgrown hedges overlap the fences
Into summer nights the wild bushes grow tall.
But in the garden standing out among flowers,
you will see the most beautiful rose petal.

Their colours adapt to our personality and dignity.
Green and blue, red-orange pink and violets too.
Dress with sweet fragrance reeling in the beauty,
But prickly thorns eat away moral integrity in you.

And spring up dishevelled blackthorn skeletons
Bare and brash spiralling necks drowning the view.
Suffocate the fragrance formed among the thorns
With a bitter shade captures the morning dew.

Frothy hedges leap to mislay the scent of rain,
Over atmospheric changes and waterlog farms,
climbing forbidden walls and down into the ravine.
I stumble upon a Rose among prickly thorns.

Among melancholy anger boisterously wander
I smile along the dreary road upon which I strode.
The romance of bones along cobblestones to ponder
Treasures found in the single rose-scented abode

No rose of her kindred kind look with such delight,
Turned away from scentless fondles leaves.
In the light, no flower blossomed so fresh and bright
Reflect, the beauty in her eyes with blushes.

The Rose I knew, from a Ukrainian meadow
Sit poised on a green glow dice among prickly thorns,
Matured shade whose love was made to grow,
Evoke elegance to plant the essence of our beings.

Since this charm of beauty in our hearts is alive,
We give a rose to express love strong feelings.
Like the pearls in the path of an entangle beehive,
That makes life full of bliss and dreams.

In Ukraine, I stumble upon a rose among thorns,
But the image of dark razer twigs needs trimming.
To challenge all her lovelier companions
with purer deep hearts of ephemeral lasting.

Thorny brows roam and ramble in bushes and brambles
bathe in frown like angry people getting tall.
Reckless and lofty, they climb up walls and fences
But cannot smile like the roses upon which they fall.

The rambling brambles sit nearby the wild
Honeybees, make friends with wasps and hornets,
But the Rose among thorns makes butterflies inside
With their scented dew perfumed tears and gifts.