Roses and Baby Swings (2 Poems)

Two poems this week, you say?  But why?!  Because I'm lazy!  I wrote both of these for my Advanced Poetry workshop - I suppose I should be slightly forgiven because they've never seen "Baby Swings," (I was sick that day), so that's technically a completely new premiere, but "Roses" has received it's criticism.  I still haven't made any changes to it yet though, or written many new poems outside of class lately.  I should really give myself more time for poetry, but I'm trying hard to work on Fiction so I can get more short stories posted here!


As for the poems themselves, "Baby Swings" should speak for itself, the kind of pretentious thing I'd write.  "Roses" needs some explanation, or, more specifically, the name and pessimistic tone of it.  It was written for an assignment to write a heteronym, which is like a pen name except complete with its own personality and biography, and my particular heteronym, Max Thurleaf, is a jaded pessimist.  For more description on why this poem is the way it is, you can read my ramble on heteronyms and identities on my other blog by clicking here.  I came up with an idea for a poem last night which might actually be, dare I say, a bit humerous!  Actually, probably not, but I'll work on it and have that ready for next time.  In the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy these, please leave comments and criticisms and such, and I'll annoy you with my writing next time!
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Roses
by Max Thurleaf

Lay verbose frills on it all you want,
Dress it with a witty phrase, an eloquent trill,
Perhaps a rhyme that flicks off the tongue;

Your rose is just a rose, just a rose,
And when you pluck a petal, it will not shine,
It will slowly wilt and wither.
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Baby Swings
by Matthew Stalbaum

bars greenly yellow, holding
a row of baby swings that hang
from plastic chains, they will not rattle
in the wind, in the to & fro of
baby’s rocking, he will not cry,
when he falls he will bounce against 
fake ground, plush matting,
waterproof stainproof scarproof
(leave no marks on the baby, no
fingerprints on the bars) ageproof
he will crawl away, up a slide
perhaps, for a bigger fall