All I Ate

I ate the roses by the garden gate.
My sweetly scented breath delighted me,
And though the thorns stung most alarmingly
I swallowed all the blood and called it fate.
The tulips were in a most desperate state,
The peony bush looked like misery,
The asters needed faith, and charity,
But only roses bled. That's all I ate.

You're wondering how I explained the scent
When Jenny kissed me. I did not explain:
I told her I had been under a strain,
Like Guy Fawkes in the halls of Parliament,
Like Mama selling thrills to pay the rent,
Like snacking on those roses in the rain.

Insult

Don't mark my words. Try harder not to heed
Any advice I offer, and all aid
Or compliments thus delicately paid.
Regret no errors. Gardens gone to seed
Should bother no one. Clearly, you've been freed
To laugh at dinners that your good friends made
When you were ill, despite the tricks you played
And harm done. Please ignore your brother's need.

Why should you worry that their charity
Is anything to you? You are above
Such mundane thoughts. You touch them with a glove,
That ought be enough. For clarity,
Between you all, there's such disparity
That they insult you with their dismal love.

Speechwriting Class

Please spend another minute on your speech,
Making it sing, perfecting every phrase,
Making it sting, removing bits of praise
In favour of rebukes. Try a harsh screech,
Use copied words: Once more unto the breach,
Dear friends, dire enemies, dread lonesome strays.
Choose loathsome exploits and uncanny ways.
Too late, we've learned your grasp exceeds your reach.

Now even plagiarism can't help you,
Not even fear of death or heads of state
Can make you try harder, or hesitate:
You just heave forward like a song that's true,
But nothing that you say, or sing, or do,
Makes sense now. Empty words, ignoble brew.