The roses clamored wildly.
I confessed it, smiled mildly.
Profusely rambling everywhere,
The crimson blooms were sweetness rare.
Entwined with random opulence
Around the old white picket fence,
‘Twas glorious disobedience,
Quite like the charm of innocence.
While I walked the path one day,
Two passers-by did stop and say:
“You have to train the vines to stay.
You’ve failed if you have let them stray.”
With good intentions this was said.
Still I preferred my way instead.
So I replied most patiently
That I’d found a different way.
Said I,  “You do not understand.
Wild roses need a gentle hand.
By nature they grow not by duty.
Their very wildness is their beauty.”
With an inward laugh, I told them this
In spite of their stern prejudice.
They heard me not, but disapproved.
I knew it for their glances proved
That they could never tolerate
My roses so extravagate.
I sighed a little sadly then,
We might have shared the roses when
They saw beyond strict discipline
And saw the perfect beauty in
The roses that had sought to be
Not merely what they ought to be.
Still quite untamed the roses grow
For they were fashioned long ago
In a wondrous-wrought design
By a Hand much gentler than mine.

 

Linda Kendrick is a poet living in Timewell, Illinois.

This poem is among the entries for the Society of Classical Poets’ 2012 Poetry Competition.

 

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One Response

  1. Edmund Merchant

    AND Ms. Kendrick observes strict meter
    as well as sensible rhyming AND a close adherence to a sensible, sensitive and winsome message. Absolutely SUPERB poem !!!.
    Thanx for sharing.

    Reply

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