im beginning to hate roses

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Critical Analysis #1

im beginning to hate roses

fonics17
Junior Member

since 2000-08-13

Posts 12

0 posted 2000-10-24 09:36 PM

this isnt by me, but my friend. i love it.

I'm Beginning to Hate Roses

I'm beginning to hate roses
and petals and stems
and thorns, all sitting in the florist's
stands with arched backs and rouge
and their striking red lips
turned up for kissing - long legged
long stemmed and shaped hips
and leaves clothing their slender bodies.
I hate the squalid leftovers, petals opened,
worked late at nine o'clock, settled for
by dead husbands - past prime valentine's
leftovers. and I hate the coy ones
selling first always tender always red
as they sit satisfied and demure knowing
they'll be bought by badgered boyfriends and
cheating husbands and by lovers who'll
wait in the rain for that one moment and
that one kiss and that smile and those eyes
and leave after that moment is passed and gone
and sit alone with a receipt for roses.

jbouder
Member Elite

since 1999-09-18

Posts 2534
Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash

1 posted 2000-10-25 12:48 PM

fonics:

I liked the idea and the rose metaphor but think you abandoned the the metaphoric language too early.

quote:
I'm beginning to hate roses
and petals and stems
and thorns, all sitting in the florist's
stands with arched backs and rouge
and their striking red lips
turned up for kissing - long legged

Considering this is a rose poem, your beginning is pretty strong. I would suggest you substitute "lips" with "perked petals" or something like that and get rid of "long legged" and go with the "long stemmed" at the beginning of your next line. Your metaphor was working for you, I think, so why did you abandon it and leave nothing for us to figure out on our own?

quote:
long stemmed and shaped hips
and leaves clothing their slender bodies.

Pretty much same comments as above. I don't like hips here (do roses have hips?).

quote:
I hate the squalid leftovers, petals opened,
worked late at nine o'clock, settled for
by dead husbands - past prime valentine's
leftovers. and I hate the coy ones
selling first always tender always red
as they sit satisfied and demure knowing
they'll be bought by badgered boyfriends and
cheating husbands and by lovers who'll
wait in the rain for that one moment and
that one kiss and that smile and those eyes
and leave after that moment is passed and gone
and sit alone with a receipt for roses.

Considering the good job you did on your opener, I know you can do better than this. Initially you bounce back and forth from the metaphor to the real and I found it a little difficult to follow.

I would suggest that you work on finding ways to parallel a rose metaphor with the latter portion of your poem. Consider exploring the other attributes of flowers ... their fragrance, eventual wilting and dropping of leaves and petals, etc. Just a suggestion.

Thanks for the read and welcome to CA.

Jim

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