Thy prickly canes!
Rose,
you have stems of beauty,
a fragrant blossom of love,
red garnished and velvet lipped.
Thou art a wonder of life,
and yet a thorny conundrum,
guarded by thy prickly canes,
all the while beckoning.
Your magic perfume consumes me,
thus its musky allure invites.
You have but to present yourself,
and so, to your occasion I respond,
for you, patulous pretty, my erotic heart,
rose.
©2012, Donald Harbour
Donald Harbour Poetry 
I like the contrast between the two meanings of the word “rose”…the contrast works together well to convey your admiration and love.
-Nicole
LikeLike
This is wonderful, Donald.
Very ‘Romantic’ me would like to think the poem is not merely hypothetical and there is, indeed, a rose by another name.
LikeLike
Great shift in meaning!
LikeLike
A thorny conundrum indeed. I think the prickly canes are necessary to protect the pretty rose, lest some unworthy swain choose to pluck her. Or is that just me anthropomorphizing?
LikeLike
Fun and romantic. I had a grandfather who in his retirement grew roses. I’ve received just a bunch or two in my time…though the thorns were removed. I actually have another flower I favor. I know rose-hips can be made into tea. I wonder if once removed the thorns have any use.
My offering is here: http://julesgemsandstuff.blogspot.com/2012/08/wwp-117-strained-elfje-quintet.html
LikeLike