BLOOD AND ROSES

The other day while I was walking on the beach, I came across a dozen long stemmed roses.  They looked like they had just washed up on the shore.  I had to take a picture.  I imagined all sorts of sad love story scenarios around those roses.  That's what I do.  I think about stories all the time.  Today was a gloomy day and I went to the beach and just sat and A Muse of Fire came back into my head.  I was in a dark place and I guess the story came out on the dark side. It will be continued.  It's part of a screenplay I wrote that I'm changing up and this wasn't in the screenplay.  It came from the story and the characters I had already created.  You see it from a different perspective.  I hope this makes sense. 

"Rose, harsh rose,
marred and with stint of petals,
meagre flower, thin,
sparse of leaf,


more precious than a wet rose
single on a stem -
you are caught in the drift.


Stunted, with small leaf,
you are flung on the sand,
you are lifted
in the crisp sand
that drives in the wind.


Can the spice-rose
drip such acrid fragrance
hardened in a leaf"


H.D. (Hilda Doolittle)- Sea Garden -1916.

Thank you French Anonymous