Transcendentalist Romance: Scent of a Putrid Flower

Thu, 11/26/2015 - 22:32 -- ellex12

Dear sweet and putrid Flower

I find myself riveted by your solitude.

And there is no better method for passing the day

In this jail-cell we call freedom

Than contemplating your petals red as blood

Whose dye swiftly smeared across the veins of my liberal heart.

You are aware of my confinement, and I welcome it so

Just as I have welcomed my dear father, with a riveting glow.


Flower, poor dear

Rebellious and so battered

To be plucked and swept off the soils

That have hindered your growth.

I find it ideal and you would gladly welcome

My own putrid aroma of dying roses.

And though you are a conflicted soul,

You speak the truth of a million voices

When you whisper the wise words

Of a soul as old as the setting Sun,


“There is only one path to Heaven.

On Earth, we call it Love.”*



* Goldman, Karen. (2/21/2015). “Love.”

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741