by William Gillespie
& Dirk Stratton


Roses are not red,
But no one ever tells you:
This is not what's said.
Beware of rot: true
Corrosion only smells dead.
Roses are not blue.

The green gun shot blue.
Every TV war sells red.
This is not what's dead.
What have they taught you?
Are any villanelles true?
Roses are not said.

That's what the plot said
(exploding bright bombshells blue):
This is not what's true.
Soon you'll be caught red.
Every newspaper tells you
Roses are not dead.

Still. Quiet. Hot. Dead.
That's what my book of spells said.
This is not what's you.
An evil thought blew
Past peace as hate propells red.
Roses are not true.

And as you sought "true,"
False's razzberry yells, "Dead!"
This is not what's red.
"Stop blood!" the clot said--
Rhyming chiming church bells blue.
"Roses are not you."

Hard selling bought you;
Jell-O in its mold gels true.
This is not what's blue.
Dick/Jane's Spot is dead.
As Edward Said spells "said."
Roses are not red.

The news shot you dead
With what's (although not true) said.
And this makes blue red.
Roses are not red.

combined forms

Table of Forms

Table of Forms
© 1996-2006
Dominique Fitzpatrick-O'Dinn
Spineless Books