Rosa Rugusa

Rosa Rugusa prose poem

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I departed gently, like a soft breeze that enters a window and cools off a room with a very soft entry; I entered a path of ancient rough stone, all covered with bush and trees overgrown. My goal was to find the source of a scent that filled our small home , with aromas of roses and flowery cologne. I followed the scent down the old rugged road, all empty and absent of a single abode. As I made my slow steps through the bushes and trees, the scent grew much stronger, real hard to believe. After more than one hour no scent could be stronger, and I knew then my search would not last much longer. My thoughts proved me right and as I moved much closer, there stood the source of the scent, a huge pink Rugosa. I sat down on the ground next the heavenly rosa, and felt then that heaven could never me closer. I sat there transfixed, giving thanks up above, for more than one hour, then headed back home and out of the bower.

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Warren P Padla

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majored in journalism at NYU in the 50s; received my masters in business from there and worked for Equitable Life in NY for many years. When retired entered antique business and real estate; retired to Massachusetts and Florida; currently do a lot of volunteer work. Friends forced me into poetry due to much writing I had sent to them over the years. So I joined High On Poems. the end, warren
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Rosa’s Way Out

Rosas Way Out prose poem

Sweeping blood drops from her mouth, crying with anguished sobs Rosa ran to open the door, but Owen caught her by her wrist. Why are you doing this to me she stated? Owen hit her again with no reply. He