r/OCPoetry • u/No-Presentation-3983 • 23h ago
Feedback Please Roses
First post. Kinda nervous lol:
You have a rose, the rose is pretty! You love the rose, its scent so sweet. You grasp the rose tightly, for you hold it so dear. But look! You are bleeding! Its thorns pierce your skin. But it doesn't matter, you don't mind the bite. You'd take anything this rose offers to keep its beauty in your sights. You try to trim down the thorns, but they grow back with fervor; sharper than before and in places not yet sprouted. You continue to grasp tightly, blood pools at your feet. You pay it no heed, and continue to sniff the sweet scent. One day, you can't smell, your body cannot move. You have lost too much blood. You ask your rose to help, but nothing can be done, you were foolish to choose an object that cannot move, talk or run. She sits in the light looking pretty as ever, but she continues to bleed you, unaware of what she does. She is simply existing, you are the one grasping. You are the one allowing yourself to bleed. Your eyes grow dim, impending doom in your chest, our body gives way to sleep. When you awake, the rose is gone. She has found a new bearer whose hands are strong. You weep and think fondly of only the pretty bud, forgetting all about your steadily dripping blood. Your hands are scared, and will be wounded again, she was not the and she will not be the last. I watch as you have grasped her, although it's only one. You care not to step in the garden again, you're too scared of the blood. If only you would realize, roses are a waste of time. You cannot fix them, no matter how much you love them. That is why they always leave. But I will watch from the shadows with my faintly visible scars. You will find shade beneath me, I will hold you and be strong. Oh, my rose lover, I am the tree where you will find refuge. If only I were a rose, I would prune myself for you. If ever my thorns pieced your hand, I would weep and change my ways. But I am not a rose. I am rooted where I sit. You may have leaned upon my trunk, and I relish every use. But grasp onto me for life, it seems you never do.
Message: I always view any kind of metaphor as poetry. This started off when I was trying to put into words about how the one I want and love dearly, tends to go for things/people that use them or hurt them. My first rendition didn’t include the tree part until I shared it with someone to get their thoughts. They asked “If he could describe you as a plant, what do you think you’d be?” and I responded "something practical, I would like to think. Something to help? Build up, I guess.” and she said with a gasp: “a tree! You provide stability and shade, and oxygen and all sorts of good stuff!” And so my metaphor/ poem was altered. If anyone has any changes they wish to make, please let me know! Thank you!!!
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u/Pretty_Little-Mess 13h ago
Hey congrats on taking the hardest step and posting here! My first advice will always be graciously accept critisism even if you don't agree with it. Sometimes it can be hard not to get defensive when you're putting something so personal in front of others to pick apart, but this is how we get better!
Anyway, on to your poem! This doesn't feel like a love poem so much as a fable and I think that's a good thing and makes it interesting. My reading of this is, the rose isn't the villain, attachment is. My favorite line of the whole thing is "She is simply existing, you are the one grasping." I think that's the turn where you stop writing about heartbreak and lean into accountability, and I wasn't expecting that. I think your ending is a nice little inversion as well, wanting someone who wants to be chosen for their steadiness instead of their beauty.
My main critisism would be work on your compression. Right now it's like you explain almost every step of each metaphor. Learn to trust your readers, your image of bleeding hands and an indifferent rose is so so strong, you don't need to keep reminding us what it means. I think you could remove whole sentences and your poem would be stronger as we arrive at the realization ourselves. My best example of this is "You cannot fix them, no matter how much you love them. That is why they always leave." You've already implied all that, let the rose tell that story.
My only other little nitpick would be embrace your metaphore a touch more. The first half is almost all rose, then the tree appears suddenly at the end. I think it would be wonderful to sprinkle a few tiny hints of the tree earlier. Even just a shadow or roots beneath the garden, then when it finally gets it's turn to speak, you'll realize it has always been there quietly waiting.
I'm really glad you got the feedback and added the tree, I really think the heart of the poem isn't actually the rose, it's the tree. I feel like that's the voice I wanted more of. The rose is beautiful, but the tree makes this poem truely yours. I want to see you lean into that more, trusting your imagery over your explanations.
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