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Poetry: By Ryan Beitler
The Blue Rose of Death: Ultimate Beauty!
Just another Rose
Though my blood not be Roman...
I place a bouquet of roses before my door
to surely assure no disturbances occur.
Shower Flora with flowers galore
Open up my sweet poetic soul
hours upon in about different hybrids.
Invite Aphrodite to a candlelight dinner...
Hand her a cabbage rose on first sight
to remind her what the feeling is like.
I have been a slave to pain in many ways
yet, to this day my heart remain pure like nectar,
before Bees' try to invade is its core or sector.
Therefore, unlike Hector...
You could embalm me in rose oils
yet, your plans will foil in seconds,
like the lifespan of a banana before it spoil.
Familiarize all the Gods
Tell their eyes to record my lifeline...
Remember and capture every moment in time..
to be completely sure that the blue rose is mine...
Any fool that dare design or try..
May my blood boil red in color
making it look just like another.
When the soul be taken from my core
ill explore all over for Goddess Flora,
speaking from dusk till aurora.
For its beauty can't go untold
like a one of a kind poem unfold,
burning words forever in a mind,
forever entwined in the rectum of an eye.
My style is unique so beyond the hybrid kind,
for a while I've been blue so very hard to find.
As death slowly occur...
Like a rose "again" I will grow whole,
indelible beauty in time forever told!
The Beautiful Mystery Of The Blue Rose
Fresh Rose Bouqets
Look of Stone
A sudden glare into my eyes..
Surely catch any by surprise.
Deep inside the depths lie a blue rose
supposedly known as death to those.
Lord knows this be not the life I chose
deep inside black shade like Medusa;unknown.
Warriors who escape remember friends of stone.
A helpless fate eternally known as prone.
Never again to see their family or homes.
Unless your name is Perseus
I suggest you don't come alone,
so history suggests as known.
Heart Of Stone
My hearts shield is a hundred times strong
like the armor of Achilles',
with the texture of a beetle.
Therefore, penetration be impossible,
like access beyond the walls of Troy,
an unconquered magnificent obstacle.
To gain my love and trust be improbable,
though my wits and charm be unbearable,
causing pure fascination and hysteria.
My words of beauty shall travel the sea,
to never ending depths like the Sea-gal see..
indenting my name in poetry for eternity; indelibly.
Those that gain access never leave,
it is an impossible task while I breath.
No other mans love be as pure as a dove..
No women can withstand the confidence
, that's blinding, come push and shove,
they are remembered as the ones,
who thought they wouldn't fall in love.
who intrude to lude..
Shall roam the cold underworld
possessing no feeling to ever warm their chest.
Regretting ever toying
with the Blue Rose of Death.
Blue Rose ; 10.0 Winter Hardy
The relationship with my father be strained,
everyday since the heavenly lights are so far away
Necessitating some communication,
be a desperate reach with my intense revelations.
Since that very day In 1987, as time pass,
deterioration of my heart be at a slow pace,
like a grain of salt shrivel a snail.
It place my name as a rare creation,
VERY WINTER HARDY creating my own class!
Easily surpassing and hybrids that dare clash
with the everlasting blue rose of passion.
Immediate death will always take action
assuring no other come close to matching!
The Blue Rose Tone
In my time of Poetry design,
my mind be known as a legend of master rhyme,
shining like a star glisten in the sky,
so seductive to the Humans eye.
My creations from pure revelations
seem to have relation to the first rose..
So people just imitate like a hybrid grow
trying to copy beauty they will truly never know.
I am the only Blue Rose ever known..
For Flora requested there be no other clone!
My mystique be more solid then a stone,
prone to be a model of the most perfect tone!
People try an dig inside my mind
use it like fuel or coal
until was be no more.
It trigger my warm heart
to chilling depths of cold...
Good thing I am a sight to behold,
for the Blue Rose not be prone to death,
lasting through any depths of freezing.
I can intake any pain,
sustaining any that be,
that rain in the chest of pure beauty.
Brown eyed guy
Sometimes when my mind design
the beauty is horrifyingly alive
like a glimpse of the blue rose in time.
At times, when my mind unwind,
the fascination be a totally peaceful shine,
like a star blinding my brown eyes.
My pen hold the secrets of eternity
so people are attracted like bees' sense potency,
to the picture perfect blue rose that define poetry.
So If you see me consider it rare.
I am from a special seed that require extra care.
Unlike any hybrid roses glare could share.
My swagger is a heavy stench
that be ready and handy like a wrench,
given by God so it be the purest scent.
My words are posted in today's poetry
,like a tent, so most people have heard of me,
as the rose who bloom so very frequently.
My mind is an exquisite design
unlike any kind that ever be known to mankind,
dating far back to different generations of time.
The heart that beat inside
signal rhyme to allow my hand to unwind,
lasting so long like a star far off in the sky.
The pureness that gather to splatter
be fragments and pieces of my brain matter.
Folks that know me be struck by the might
from a billion impulses of lonely delight I recite...