of rambling roses

born in the fever dreams of Degas

dainty brushstroke delineations

conceived surreptitiously

on a canvas of ephemeral linen

heavy with striated tenderness

in the pallor of blushing brides

petite parfum ballerinas

their arabesque stems gathered

in enormous, trussed bouquets

 bespoke of cherubs

the ceremonials of flowers

an unspoken dowry of buds

clutched for the sake of luck

a single blue columbine hinted

in smudges of dampened impasto

voluptuous yet chaste

beneath chapel veils of varnish

the deep resin moods

of rambling roses

demure in their camaraderie

with the bleeding of noses

 hushed carmine mouths

bursting with the conceited passions

of petals and capillaries

in the keeping of Monet’s secrets

debutantes resemblant

of revolvers and reservoirs

such is the subterfuge of beauty

betrothed at the insistence

of Victorian traditions

a languid consummation

with solemn cataracts of turpentine

ending in inevitable dissolve

affections granted in haste

 annulled to sentimental waste

such is the fate of the lovelorn

agony for the avant garde

a piece posthumously titled

The Scorn of Louise Odier

a. duncan, 2019


“No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone
No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love
No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world.”

Featured art: 

The breathtaking paintings of Ted Pim 


Posted by

Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus || Love is rich with both honey and venom

4 thoughts on “of rambling roses

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