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Professor Roy and the Amazingly Bad Poetry Journal

25th June, 2002. 8:34 pm. Amazingly Bad Poetry Review - Slaughtered By Roses

Slaughtered By Roses
by Brandi; Fresno, CA
Slaughtered by roses
My love did not bring
Withered into emptiness
My heart it did sink
Unfaithful forgiveness intwined in my dreams
Unsoughtful memories told to thy kings
Separated by the desolate winds
Discarded feelings withered within
The remains of my heart grow slowly in pain
Searching myself for what's left of my sanity.

"Do you know what day it is today?" "No, what day is it?" Oh, the pain of a forgotten anniversary. I think that that's what this poem is about... I'm pretty sure I remember when mine is. The initial reason I pulled this one is quite simple: I love the mental image of two dozen roses quietly stalking this young woman as she sleeps, creeping silently across the floor of her bedroom -- then striking! like a deadly cobra, swatting her mercilessly with their soft velvety petals. I guess it'd be the thorns that would do the damage. But thorns or no thorns, it would be easy to outrun roses. Her poor metaphor aside, how does it occur to people to use archaic language in contemporary poems? My best theory is that they feel it adds drama to their words, with phrases like "told to thy kings." This poem apparently has no continuity whatsoever. What is "unfaithful forgiveness?" If you forgive someone unfaithfully, the act of forgiving is nullified. I think I understand the awkward 'unsoughtful memories' (memory she'd rather not remember) -- but what's with the kings? Maybe she was thinking about something else, an unrelated thing, and ended up writing that by mistake. Wait, 'unsoughtful' isn't even a word!! Dammit. Are you and your love, the one who doesn't bring you flowers anymore, the ones separated? Were you even ever together? The more I look at this poem, the more I want to violently tear it up and throw it to the four desolate winds. Keep searching, Brandi. Keep searching.
Bad Poetry Grade [F = your standard bad poem; A+ = worst poem imaginable]: D
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