A rose is a rose

Is a rose is a rose.

But the Black Rose transcends

Any of those.

The color is deeper than

Any one shade of red;

From pink at the core

To dark mauve at the head.

Not all Black Roses are

Cultivated by gardener’s art;

Some constitute a woman’s

Most womanly part.

Black Roses are not often known

By this particular name;

Some names are clinical;

Some are pet names; some used

Just to shame.

A woman might have a Black Rose

And not know it;

For to someone who loves her

She has yet to show it.

Black roses, after all,

Are not easy to cultivate;

You must care for them as you care

for their owner on a first date.

For she, after all,

Has the Black Rose as part

Of a passageway leading to

Her mind and her heart.

If you treat the Black Rose

As a hole for a fence post,

A fence you will get!

Separating your hearts to the utmost.

On the other hand, if caring deeply for her

Was what you chose,

You and she may together find

The treasures of the Black Rose.

As you kiss and you lie

Heart to heart on the bed,

Sheer excitement making your

Skin tingle with red,

It may not be obvious

What her Black Rose feels,

But her heart talks to yours,

And between them love seals.

Why not ask her permission

To kiss all over her?

Forehead, cheeks, lips, ears, neck,

Chest, stomach, legs, pubic fur?

Perhaps she will ask to reciprocate;

You share each other

Like the check

On a Dutch-treat date.

When you look at her core,

How much has it changed

From the natural way

Female parts are arranged?

After all, they have organs

Built for excretion,

Many types of fluid, plus membranes

And sometimes people at completion

Of their gestational time,

When they are ready to live

As individuals who take

But also who give.

Many people thus say

The pleasure of sex to enjoy

Is primarily to create

A new girl or new boy.

But if that was the only reason,

It would be a forbidden pleasure

Engaged in solely at time

Intervals of great measure.

Many also say sex is

The ultimate of love.

To have sex with someone apart from your sweetheart

Risks wrath from above.

Still, sex for fun can be

A pleasant surprise,

Especially if you see

The need in her eyes

To feel bliss, to have

The Black Rose flower,

As if from sun, fertile soil

And a well-timed shower.

So gaze on her. Do her

Petals slip open and glisten with dew

At the thought of feeling

Love caresses from you?

Do her colors range from

Pink to the deepest red …

Does her nubbin peek out

From the stem of the rose head?

Could you lap up her nectar

And be thirsty for more

While she does things to you

That even the score?

Then count your blessings!

For many of those

Women have, but aren’t aware of

Their own Black Rose.

And many who have it

Guard it with most secretive care,

Revealing it only to certain

Ones who share

Black Roses, or in men’s cases,

Parts which fit roses just right

For hearts to share

A beam of glorious light.

This may sound too serious

For couples to have fun.

Men and women often don’t have

Just one

Person with whom sex is

Unbridled joy.

You might as well make

Your diet all soy

If you love only the one.

That may be best for you.

But then again, Shakespeare told us

“To thine own self be true.”

Often there are hidden

Black Roses, unknown to all.

Which will look as brilliant

As New England leaves in the fall

If somebody can only reach them,

Wholly or in part

By conjunction of mind,

Body and heart.

This poem is dedicated to a woman

Who gave the Black Rose a name,

And from certain close friends

Gained admiration and fame

Because she helped two

Other women to flower,

And brought them to a

True-love bower.

Those who haven’t met Black Roses

Know how they’re missing out,

Since a Black Rose is fueled

By mind and heart without doubt.

But now I have hopes

That someday I will see

A woman with a Black Rose

Who will blossom for me.

Author's note: Inspired by and dedicated to TraceyAmes.