Briar Rose, also known as Sleeping Beauty, is a classic fairy tale that has been retold and adapted countless times over the years. It tells the story of a beautiful princess who is cursed by an evil sorceress to fall into a deep sleep for 100 years, until she is awoken by a handsome prince who has braved the thorns surrounding her castle to reach her.
The Briar Rose poem, written by Anne Sexton, is a modern retelling of this beloved story that explores the themes of love, loss, and the power of words. In the poem, Sexton uses vivid imagery and evocative language to transport the reader into the world of the fairy tale, where magic and mystery abound.
One of the most striking elements of the Briar Rose poem is the way it captures the sense of longing and desire that surrounds the princess as she sleeps. The briars that encircle her castle are described as "red roses on the white/ and red roses on the black/ which signify the truth." These roses symbolize the love that surrounds the princess, even as she sleeps, and the contrast between the red and white roses represents the duality of life – the good and the bad, the light and the dark.
Another powerful theme in the Briar Rose poem is the idea of loss. As the princess sleeps, the world around her changes and evolves, and she is left behind, trapped in a timeless sleep. The poem speaks to the fear of being forgotten and the sadness that comes with being separated from those we love.
Finally, the Briar Rose poem explores the power of words to shape our reality. The curse that causes the princess to fall into her deep sleep is spoken by an evil sorceress, and it is through the power of language that the princess's fate is sealed. Similarly, it is the power of words that eventually awakens the princess, as the prince speaks her name and breaks the spell.
Overall, the Briar Rose poem is a beautifully written and deeply poignant retelling of the classic fairy tale. It touches on universal themes of love, loss, and the power of language, and serves as a reminder of the enduring magic of storytelling.
Poem: Briar Rose Sleeping Beauty by Anne Sexton
That's okay I don't feel much either Except the occasional surge of electricity when I get tired of the numbness. Conscious human foreclosure of higher arcane intelligence, If it ever yielded it's presence, Jesus would've resurrected already. You topple down, Clumsily , Gracelessly, Down to fiery pits of Hades! My lower conscious tells me to succumb, My pride holds up, It beats the race, The winning streak, Take a peek, And you'll see, I'm a human, But barely any longer. I want you to know that I am a bottomless vortex, I want you to know my endless depths make for a difficult one. Don't you tear down your wrought iron gates, The constables are coming. She's out of prison! Further, I must not dream for when I do I see the table set and a faltering crone at my place, her eyes burnt by cigarettes as she eats betrayal like a slice of meat.
Do venture, never care. She could not nap or lie in sleep without the court chemist mixing her some knock-out drops and never in the prince's presence. She was forced Forward. You can stick a needle through my kneecap and I won't flinch. Collapsing on brick, And Shivering in spring. Lust from the earths crust A quest in the labyrinth of adulthood Locked from the gates of innocence versus virginity Or lack thereof. Snarls, apathy, stress, boredom.
However the twelfth fairy had a certain kind of eraser and thus she mitigated the curse changing that death into a hundred-year sleep. The entire poem dipicts the horror she experienced as a helpless child beneath his hand and expresses the horror she continued to experience as an adult dealing with the memory of that abuse. I'm still rather somber, You still can't see why, And I can't try any longer, But I still look at you Through my prized rosey binoculars. Italian artistry doesn't help you here, no. Only a bunch of briar roses grew forming a great wall of tacks around the castle. Happiness, A silly thing.
If if is to come, she said, sleep must take me unawares while I am laughing or dancing so that I do not know that brutal place where I lie down with cattle prods, the hole in my cheek open. Only but a white sheep. Death rattles in my throat like a marble. I called you today. That kind of voyage,rank as a honeysuckle. However, she was not dead, but had only fallen into a deep sleep; and the king and the queen, who had just come home, and all their court, fell asleep too; and the horses slept in the stables, and the dogs in the court, the pigeons on the house-top, and the very flies slept upon the walls. Walk a fine street of plated gold, Deploring plastic cores, and camera stores.
And then the prince and Briar Rose were married, and the wedding feast was given; and they lived happily together all their lives long. Giving you my prized potion of the wizards, You scream in mock terror, But still secrete pus. Prince charming line ups, All dark, handsome, and tall. Why must we all look from a distance at such mere curiosities? I want you to know I am a contradiction. It happened that, on the very day she was fifteen years old, the king and queen were not at home, and she was left alone in the palace. The briars parted as if for Moses and the prince found the tableau intact.
The king ordered every spinning wheel exterminated and exorcised. She went to sleep. Even the frogs were zombies. He kissed Briar Rose and she woke up crying: Daddy! Once a king had a christening for his daughter Briar Rose and because he had only twelve gold plates he asked only twelve fairies to the grand event. Have you ever looked for wonderland? No, No stairs to be found! Only a bunch of briar roses grewforming a great wall of tacksaround the castle. I shatter my mirrors, I shatter my mirrors. Here lies the hoarded love, the key To all the treasure that shall be; Come fated hand the gift to take, And smite this sleeping world awake.
I Will Not Wait For Your Love Time to break through. I deserve the shivers, I deserve your energy's frost. My selfish ways won. Come be my snooky and I will give you a root. It is important to note that I am an atheist. Once a king had a christening for his daughter Briar Rose and because he had only twelve gold plates he asked only twelve fairies to the grand event.
I have kisses for the back of your neck. One gave her goodness, another beauty, another riches, and so on till she had all that was good in the world. That kind of voyage, rank as a honeysuckle. Look past the story you know so well and picture the scenes in your mind that the author has so graphically crafted; you will SEE nothing resembling a fairy tale here. You can stick a needlethrough my kneecap and I won't flinch. God help — this life after death? I want you to know I do not frolick in soap bubbles in springtime, I want to tell you I don't always listen to British 80's rock bands. That much I know.
Now, as she had not been asked to the feast she was very angry, and scolded the king and queen very much, and set to work to take her revenge. She made this prophecy: The princess shall prick herself on a spinning wheel in her fifteenth year and then fall down dead. I fled, And you said, "Off with her head! Back down from the galaxy. She's out of prison. You know why I wear those turtlenecks.
