|ONE SINGLE ROSEby Edward Bonner ONE SINGLE ROSE|
If I could offer one single rose’
with ruby petals,
blades of crimson,
showered in dreams,
from my garden where seasons are unknown.
Would you understand?
If a stream runs through graciously’
soft solemn covert sort,
would you understand?
T’wasn’t far from my heart
and heard through the hills.
The sky’s inability to keep a secret cried to unveil.
My falcon suspended alone in the clouds,
overheard the rumble,
gracefully retrieving the rose.
He flew through the cascading summit,
protecting every petal not to crumble.
This falcon possessed one single pure rosaceous plant.
Whispered endearment to the one I love.
In my life of reality,
one single rose with ruby petals.
One last breath with showered dreams,
ended from the whispering blows
BEAUTY AND WICKEDNESS
There was a place of beauty and wickedness,
untouched from footsteps walking nowhere.
Fixational drifting in the burning sun
turned the seas into a ravaged land.
Bending the limits with the mind,
utters unique fantasies.
Through inescapable happiness,
whispers plead for a utopian vision.
A woman weeping in despair
retreats under a spellbound olive branch.
Touched by this symbol of goodwill,
everyday life is an obstacle for learning.
Move while the door is opened,
let resilience emerge from her sorrowful detachment.
Fear can be clothed with excuses.
Return strength to the impeding heart.
don’t assume back tomorrow.
ALL MY OWN (HAZELWOOD)
The morning sun peeped through my bedroom window.
I remember when, oh wait! Mistaken for the morning sun,
a soaring flame of yellow, orange and red viewed miles away,
hung in the sky all night and all day.
Embodied a “plume of justice”
pride for the hard working souls earning a wage at Jones and Laughlin steel in Hazelwood,
Living with my grandparents was great. But getting older, was time to move on.
At eleven years old and remembering well.
My mother and I moved into an apartment house, nestled on a hill away from the town’s confusion.
In that, I acquired my first bedroom.
Wood frame, with a mattress and coverings
my first bed!
Not a couch with sheets and a blanket.
My first freaking bed! I was in awe.
My own dresser for clothes’
I can store my army men in it.
Sure am one lucky kid.
This was the greatest place!
Woods in the back of the house and a creek!!
Through the woods there was an old burnt up car,
probably stolen and just past that car was the fishing hole
abundant with crayfish and lizards.
Getting muddy and building forts with this child’s imagination,
was a world of heavenly dreams come true.
Best of all, the city riots and fire-bombings were left behind.
Yes, I threw rocks, bricks and one or two fuel lit amber bottles.
Retaliation is how we survived
There was no justice in the city.
I was fast on my feet and often just narrowly escaped.
We’d ride our bicycles below the tracks, about a mile away.
Once there, we were safe in a community that protected us.
The evening grew loud with trains carrying alloy of iron and carbon.
“Steel” high stencil strength for building dreams.
Time to ride home.
Home with a bed and my own bedroom.
What more could I ask for!
THE BRILLIANCE – OF HER – POMEGRANATE ATTIRE
The brilliance – of her – pomegranate attire
eddies a cologne – spiced opulence.
Whimpers triggered – from a blazing blind – scarlet cloth,
curtains darkness behind a seductive temptress, capable of impelling souls.
Beneath her cocktail gown – silhouettes fire – into radiating lust.
Ravishing whirlpools impregnate warm currents through his skin.
Winds horseshoe vengefully – sending dynamite explosions – across the sidewalk.
Life turned to looming ashes.
In that split-second change,
everything grew dark.
Smudges blinded his delicate eyes beneath the clouds.
Her hand went to his neck,
two punctures – seeped blood – continuously until death.
I’m standing in the doorway
My brave eyes have fallen
Only to be burned
They say it doesn’t hurt,
but misery becomes a storm
ravishing the rainbow’s smile
The skies and the butterflies were once magic
now the universe and the heavens weep
The summer morning passed
and the winter’s bite is bleak
The flamingos missed their turn,
ending in the Siberia domain
This dire soul needed love
only to be cast away
The sole lips, fleshy skin,
cracked from the toxic air
I craved her moisture
Once I held her hand
How does bliss work?
Does it hover from the mind
I am the rotten,
piece of scum
That fell on my knees
Because I sacrificed life
In this, the arrow penetrates simple agony
Fruit will eventually be devoured by worms
Let this fall into nothing
Now that I know what was hidden
I might as well be dead About the Author:Edward Bonner grew up in a small mill town in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania.Hazelwood, Pa. A very rough neighborhood. Raised by his mother and grandparents until he was 13 years old. That’s when his mother remarried. He then moved to a suburb south of Pittsburgh. Growing up, he probably got into trouble like most kids. An avid outdoorsman. 5th degree black belt / 36 years in Shotokan karate. Author of “One Kiss” Just One Kiss. A collection of love poems and more. Author of Through The Eyes Of A Lost Boy. A collection of poetry about “Love, Loss, Trauma, Pain and Healing.” A journey of life through writing.