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Wednesday, February 22, 2017

The Carol of the Burzee Rose

In the forest of Burzee grows
The blood-red bloom of the Burzee Rose.
Honey fire scents the air
Drawing creatures everywhere.
Blooms like fists, wounding thorns,
With saw-toothed emerald leaves adorned,
It numbs the nose and draws the skin
To touch and bleed and touch again.
      It is a wonder too behold,
      A present from the days of old.
     Still it grows in deep distress
     And every year it comes back less.

In a time already near
No one left will find it there.
Children in the woods for fun
Secret lovers on the run 
Will miss the scent as they pass by.
Someday soon the rose will die.
            In the heart of Burzee grows
            The shrinking wonder of the rose.
            Find it, find it, while you may.
           The best things all will pass away.

4 comments:

  1. Love this. A perfect invitation to explore the book. Also bittersweet, as the rose itself is in decline. I find myself wanting an art deco type illustration of it.

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  2. What book is this fine poem an invitation to read?

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  3. It's called "The Burzee Rose, A Christmas Carol." Or "The Carol of the Burzee Rose, A Christmas Adventure." I haven't decided. It's all written. Agents have told me, "You can't sell Christmas books any more. No one will take a chance on them. They're up against the latest Star Trek merch." So screw them. This book is great. I'm going to put it out without 'em.

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