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David Lester Young

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Carnation That Wanted To Be A Perfect Rose
by David Lester Young

Wednesday, July 04, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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           >> View all 2,365

Carnation That Wanted To Be A Perfect Rose


To be –

Or not to be –

“The Perfect Rose.”

Tis a dream swaying the carnation.

How it romanticized along the wind

In being that lovely flowing red creation

With those soft pedals blossoming bright,

Alight fragrances sailing pure perfection

That ecstatic friction feeling those silken sheets.


The weed looked up at the carnation

Its hair dew a white flutter in dandelion seed

That in a wishing breeze, it became bald,

“How I wish I could have been a carnation.”


The perfect red rose stood stiff - all alone.

On top of the world baring its pure perfection

That every move reigned in careful orchestration

In precise movements of etiquette excellence.

The crème the crème in any fashion statement.


Inside it wanted to cavort free as this wildflower,

Full of rainbow colors in warm soft sunshine rays

Tanning alive, drifting on free flowing gentle breezes.

Massaging movements of sensual rippling touches

Exhilarating ecstatic caress inside aroused sensations

Titillations reaching deep within, as if soothing lotion

Where those sensual dews of emotions ooze,

Moaning in every part of being set on fire.

Desires reaching that orgasmic climax

That blossoms all creation.


To be –

Or not to be –


Leaves humanity pondering,

Pandering the thought in living with that perfection,

Upon living inside a closed cocoon cloned existence,

Where others wind them around, with puppet strings.

Lost they look out a window

To want to skinny dip,

Go barefoot among wild flowers

And reach that climax

In having achieved,

Not perfection, which makes one frigid,

But imperfection that makes one flexible

In writing one’s Uni-Verse

With gifts in divine wild life heartbeats.


To be –

Or not to be –

“A Perfect Poet.”

Will leave one wandering over wilting remains,

One’s life being on a toilet of water closet constipation

That anticipation in writing that masterpiece poem

That when it gets flushed down with the TP,

It is seen as a non-fertile weed,

That imperfect poets will have remains

In being John-y Appleseed poets

Spreading what is left to ponder

Upon enlightened cerebral germination.


That carnation is mulch now,

That red rose pressed in a bible,

Praying inside as a wild flower.


David Lester Young (Franklin Doppelganger) 07/04/12 ©


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Reviewed by Robert Whitford 7/12/2013
This is just so beautiful David. The way it ends is delicate and regretful. This one had me from beginning to end. Hopeful and beautiful, dark with the smell of death and perfumed corner bathrooms. A gem. Bob
Reviewed by Diana Legun (Reader) 7/4/2012
Many gleeful, bright, sensual elements in this poem. Hair dew hairdo -- wonderful! The stiffness of the rose in all its regality, wishing.... Marvelous use of 'cavort' to depict the freedom of wildflowers, the desirous 'tanning alive' I greatly enjoy the "Not perfection, which makes one frigid,/But imperfection that makes one flexible" Also, looking at the way you wrote "Uni-Verse" gave me a whole new appreciation of another dimension of that word. The segment, "A Perfect Poet." was a startling contrast to these floral personifications and left me with voting for "...not to be" perfect, so that the truth of poetry's freedom being "fertile" weed allows us yes, to be John-y Appleseed. The tree I see that grows from this poem is its last three lines...."Praying inside as a wild flower." -- marvelous! ~~ Diana

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