Tag Archives: Rose

Fire Rose


The Rose in the PineconeĀ 

A Warrior’s Poem


If you mess with the rose
You’ll be pricked by thorns
If you mess with the bull
You’ll be struck by horns
If you mess with the sword
You’ll soon taste iron
If you mess with the dragon
You’re asking for fire

A warrior may not always win
But a warrior will never bend
I will fight even when cornered
I will fight until I look horrid
I will fight with passionate fury
I will fight with vision blurry
I will fight until my last breath
I will fight even after death

Do not put on my grave
How I won or saved the day
If I had words on my grave
This, I would want it to say:
I helped those I found in need
And the captives, I helped freed
I did what I felt to be right
I didn’t accomplish everything with might
For there are higher powers above
And the greatest of these is Love

The Butterfly and the Rose (Poem)

The butterfly and the rose
How they thrive
Only God knows
Travelling across Earth
Mountains high and valleys low
To the reaches of realms
They will go
The gardens can’t stop them
Nor rain nor drought nor snow
Nor to the rushing wind
Will they bow
Who will dare tame
The butterfly and the rose
Not even pen and paper
Can lock them in prose
Defiant and high
Will their banner billow
Forever living on
Despite the tries of foes
But their love for family
Will always grow
However you view them
You must know
All this is true of
The butterfly and the rose

The Butterfly and the Rose (Art)

I made this for my Great Aunt Rose’s birthday present. I’m not sure if anyone remembers my post about her right after Christmas. Unfortunately, she’s gotten worse with her Alzheimer’s. I’m not even sure that she remembers who I am. But I felt like I needed to make this for her. She means a lot to me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to see her again before she passes, but I guess, in my own way, this can be used to tell her I love her and will never forget her.

Words of Warning

Be careful who you scorn
The most beautiful roses
Have the deadliest thorns
Be careful who you betray
Most will leave you
Maybe a few will stay
Be careful who you love
Wings of hope will only
Take you so far above
Be careful who you part
The hardest organ to mend
Is a badly broken heart
Be careful who you trust
Seemingly nice people
Can turn into a bust
Be careful who you fear
Those who make you scared
Will cause more than tears
Be careful who you worry
You may never know
How much you affect a story
Be careful who you share
One wild bird may return
While others wouldn’t dare
Be careful who you kill
Even an alive presence
Possesses a haunting will
Be careful who you scorn
The most beautiful roses
Have the deadliest thorns

The Origin of Rose


This year for Christmas, I was able to see my great great-aunt. In all honesty, I can’t remember the last time I saw her, but I know it’s been too long. Several years, at least. I always felt a special connection with Aunt Rose. We share the same birthday. This year, she’ll be ninety four. Unfortunately, my mom didn’t find out until after I was legally named. She still laments she wish she knew so Rose could’ve been a middle name for me. Hence my author name. I adopted Rose in remembrance of my aunt. Fae was added because I liked the sound of the two names together. On Christmas Day, I found out that my aunt has also been a writer. She had apparently written over a thousand stories and drew pictures to go along with them. This soldified my desire for my pen name. Regrettably, none of the stories were saved when my extended family moved her to a nursing home. I mourn for the loss of those works. It’s been four years since I declared myself a writer, and no one told me of my aunt’s gift. She used to write me letters. Long letters with excellent cursive, signed with her name and cartoon drawings of her face. I doubt she remembers writing such letters, much less her stories.

When my immediate family and I visited her, she couldn’t remember us. Didn’t recognize our faces. I won’t lie. It was hard. I wanted to speak to her, but I never found my voice. I’ve come to terms with the fact that may have been the last time seeing her before she dies. My only regret is I couldn’t even tell her I loved her. All I could think of was, “Would she remember?” She barely recognized her sister (my great-grandma), who will be ninety. Until it came time to leave. Then she remembered her sister. Begged her not to leave her alone. It took everything I had not to cry in front of my family. My sister remained with our great-grandma to say goodbye. I couldn’t. I should have. How could I muster the words to say goodbye? Would she have remembered if I did? Will she remember that I was the only one who didn’t talk to her? But what was I supposed to say? She claimed she didn’t know us. I didn’t know how to respond. But I can’t blame her.

Alzheimer’s has been hitting her hard these past few years. It’s been a downhill struggle from what I gather. She used to look at our pictures and tell us she prayed for us every night. This time, however, she couldn’t remember our pictures. We probably overwhelmed her. There were many times I could tell she was scared. She didn’t want us to leave, but it was hard for her the little bit we were there. She wanted so badly to remember. I could see it in her eyes. It frustrated her.

I don’t know much about her earlier life. I know she immigrated from Italy and was married. She was devoutly religious, attending church every Sunday. I know she was a school teacher for at least forty years, and her students loved her. Many visited her in the nursing home until she couldn’t recognize them anymore. I know she loved birds, flowers, and the sweet things of life. Loved to smile. She loved to hear what we were up to in life. Last she remembered of me, I was in college. That was four years ago. I dropped out after the first semester. I wish I could tell her I’m aspiring to be a published author. That I have a blog I post stories to, and people are interested in reading them. I’m not sure if that would make her proud, but I like to think it would. One of the best things I will remember about her is she’s one of the sweetest ladies I’ve had in my life. However, she is Italian, so she can hold her own with the best of them. But she only wanted everyone to succeed in their dreams. She was supportive of whatever we wanted to do. I suppose that’s the teacher in her.

If my life hadn’t been so crazy the past couple years, I would like to think I would’ve seen her more. Like to. I can’t change the past. Who knows what the future holds. I know I’ll miss her immensely when she’s gone. My only hope is I can keep her legacy living in my pen name and my own stories and art. It’s hard. There hasn’t been a step in this post that I haven’t cried. Though there hasn’t been as many steps as normal. This is pretty much unedited and raw emotion. On that note, I apologize for grammar and/or spelling errors. I need to deal with these emotions, and the only way I know how is through writing. I’m trying to get this done as quickly as possible so I can mentally move on. I can’t think of anything else I need to share at the moment. I think this is a good basis. I wouldn’t wish Alzheimer’s on anybody. It not only affects the patient but their family. I sincerely empathize with anyone who has gone through this experience. Especially more than once. I have no closing words, so I’ll just end this here.

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