White rose peeps, weeps too purely, <br />while red shows scarlet sins, <br />subjectivism’s surely <br />a set of moral gins. <br /> <br />Yet an orange rose shows gaily, <br />a ball of fire and flame, <br />but when it blows away we <br />may ask - “what’s in a name? ” <br /> <br />Both white and red demurely <br />like angels sit on pins <br />and needles - immaturely <br />lapelled ere bloom begins; - <br /> <br />But an orange! rows of trees we <br />plant carefully and claim <br />the orange rose to tease, - see <br />love came to play the game. <br /> <br />Though passion in a fashion <br />attracts at Valentine's <br />true love one should not ration <br />to sprightly Columbines. <br /> <br />Some send bud blood, cream, peachy, <br />flush plush on petal tips, <br />with a dress from Nina Ricci <br />and a wallet full of tips, <br /> <br />I, eyeing orange grandeur, <br />from red, white, thorny, change, - <br />chromatic spectrum's splendour <br />finds preconceptions strange <br /> <br />as love to true beholder <br />no colours sees but stream <br />whose energies true hold a <br />soul's music, tender dreams. <br /> <br />Poor falcon wings so lonely, <br />no rhyme therewith we find, <br />and as for love there's only <br />above glove, dove, - shove signed! <br /> <br />That red rose wings like falcon, <br />that white dove rhymes with love, <br />may colour poets' balcon <br />-y pruned by critic's glove, <br /> <br />yet an Orange rose flamboyant <br />leaves red, white, in the shade, <br />its petals bright flame, buoyant <br />of such are poems made...<br /><br />Jonathan ROBIN<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/orange-rose-parody-john-boyle-o-reilly-a-white-rose/
