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Shaw o' Inchrory

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Member Since: Feb, 2005

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My Love is like the Rose Gaujard.
by Shaw o' Inchrory

Saturday, September 25, 2010
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Shaw o' Inchrory
•  Poetic Procreation and the Sterile Hybrid of Vers Libre.
           >> View all 2


Idyllic dew; bedecked rose
blossom sprung on greenest brier
A fragrance fresh it truly chose
 beauty’s thought to self acquire.
Love’s truth be like that rubious rose
beauteous time be cause admire
such tender care love’s self it shows
what more may man and deeds desire.
Recites me true my flame borne rose
 true r troth no man compare
such essence I, aspire in prose
Monde de la beauté; so share.
Florescence gone my lovely rose
quenched thee quintessence o my fire
complacence ill; its clearest foes
dead hand’s own pavers of desire.
O barest be thy form thou blood-fled rose
fearful wound thy thorns impart
an ill price to pay for penurious pose
esurience, a broken heart’
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