The parochial rose garden

illustration

About this: I’ve included the draft for this one because I prefer some aspects of it, still the formalised version is better though. This draft was an obvious candidate for shaping into a sonnet although it diverges slightly from that form, you get a prize for guessing how. This illustration is one of mine, it was supposed to reflect a chintzy mindset but I have to admit I quite like the actual pattern.

The place where there will always be a rose
The garden that is never home to thorn
No thumb be pricked no tender flesh torn
The domain of wit and urbane repose
The vulgar ‘n’  the crude they will dispose
Here there will be no sheep that need be shorn
Will the world ever know that they were born
It’s the fate of many I would suppose

The parochial rose garden

The place where there will always be a rose
May you run risk of prick from briar or thorn
No thumb be prick’d yet tender flesh be torn
The domain of wit and urbane repose
This garden were crafted sans spade and hoes
Here there will be no sheep that need be shorn
Will the world ever know that they were born
It’s the fate of many I do suppose
For those who may find it too hard to fit
I direct you to a neatly tended
Quarter for discarded compost in the pit
There weed and dross be in heap ascended
So high and weighty the earth be split

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~ by deadspidereye on November 7, 2013.

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