An exercise in using different voices in a poem: more exercise is needed.
|Roses drop their petals in rain|
flowering the path of the crying one.
This is how a poem would start
in a world where every poem was art.
In a world where poems judge
a poem might start
Woe to roses that
battered by spring hail
fall apart rather than bucking up.
In a world where poems dance
Roses two three four
turn on toes two three four
and swirl their thorns two three four
into partners' hands two three four.
In a world of children, a poem might
repeat itself as roses are red, violets are blue
billy goats smell, and so do you.
In my world, says the statue of Venus
roses harden like the heart of granite and
stand forever where I can’t reach them.
Some might start their poem
but that is not likely a poet’s first choice.