Photography © Glenn Bowie


Blue Roses

In a castle made of stone
Where bleeding poppies grow
Blue Roses. Yes, Blue.
Red and Blue and Red and Blue and-
Purple. Not too much purple.
Like blueberries in a basket of strawberries
Or raspberries turned-
Stop on Red! Stop on Red!
I walk on the ledge of the blue village.
Like the ocean,
All kinds of blue here
Do not put your seashells there!
Not here, not on my stone.
Meanwhile, the blue flowers
all covered in white frost,
bloom and bleed.
Like I said,
This kingdom grows blue roses.
What stars? Did I say stars?
I don’t believe in stars.
I don’t know how it happened,
Only that a terrible movie,
And some city lights
Lit a spark between us
Like lightning strikes the golf course.
Fast and first.
No one else seems to be affected.
Just me in my castle of stone.
Will you stop with the seashells already?
Look! The staircase.
The one leading to the blue-raspberry
It faces the blue boats, all facing south.
Oh, how I miss it.
Broken shells, and the blue fish.
Once the fish is red, he’s back in.
That’s the way it is, in the blue house.
Eight windows, four doors, one roof.
All blue and red and blue and red-
But mostly blue, and no purple.
Where mountains touch the skies.
Yes, touch. I believe it.
Where bleeding poppies grow
I can believe anything.
Stop with the damn seashells already!
Stop on Red! Stop on Red!
It’s the Blue Roses.


Helene Weintraub is a creative writer, performing artist and playwright whose true hobbies are singing in the shower, trying different ice cream flavors, and counting down the days until summer.

Glenn Bowie is a published poet, lyricist and photographer from the Boston area. He also owns and operates an elevator company that supplies custom-built elevators for clients from New England to Hollywood. Author of two poetry and photograph collections (Under the Weight of Whispers and Into the Thorns and Honey) on Big Table Publishing, he donates all profits from his books to various charities for the homeless and local animal shelters.