Poetry Blogs (rose)
She drifted in and out of view
passing from gossamer to stone,
floating and then, sinking down low,
singing the words you wrote for her,
the sound now a sick cacophony
mocking your emotions,
stabbing at your heart.
Holding the now faded rose
that you had pinned in her hair,
but truly, a thorn in her side
had been your gift to her,
the beautiful bloom
Thursday 12th September 2019 4:08 pm
Tuesday 27th August 2019 6:32 pm
I have decided enough is enough
i have seen the glass bottom so many times and the view is so distorted that life means nothing.
Life is what we make it - so the next life will be better
The next life will be worse
The next life is just that the next one.
I am so far from home that I do not think I will ever return.
My light is lost, it is shining on those that need it mor...
Sunday 7th July 2019 6:45 am
Love once bloomed
like a fragrant flower
in eternal spring.
Through years of
torrential summer tears,
the scent faded.
All that seemingly remains
are scorched petals that drop
like dead leaves in fall.
But, far beneath
the frozen surface,
intertwined roots run deep...
Making our twisted love
hardy, to weather the
Wednesday 8th May 2019 1:57 am
On a snowy day,
In a dimly lit street,
An ailing girl, utterly dismayed
Perches under the canopy of an enormous tree.
Looking towards heaven,
Her eyes well up a little.
Perhaps she’s waiting for someone special,
But all that comes to her are snowflakes, frosty and brittle.
She digs up the icy earth
With her gloved fingers.
And buries a white rose beneath the...
Wednesday 24th April 2019 6:39 pm
A Shattered Rose
The slick cliff'd river smears shiny
blue-green sliding waters
across richly wooded chateau-lands;
hurrying through honey-scarred falaises,
cat-mouthed where toffee sandstones
arced onto sleeping innocents beneath.
A country blessèd and blighted both,
in equal measure (as aeons bequeath)
full with easy money, and its deadly past.
Tuesday 18th September 2018 1:28 pm
I saw a rose
In a small glass vase
It looked so fragile and helpless
But yet beautiful and sublime.
Could I touch its petals
Without causing the harm
that would damage
this wonderful thing?
Could I breathe onto
its fine leaves
And leave no sign of human interference?
Let it live on in its own peace?
My lovely lonesome rose
Do not ...
Wednesday 4th April 2018 11:59 am
A hundred thoughts in my mind
Yet struggling to pen down some lines.
There is this rainbow, all over me;
But I am all white
Just being black and white.
Bullet is cheaper than love;
Tears wiping away smiles.
Death winning over life;
But I am alright,
Just being black and white.
A hundred arrows pierced my heart;
Haven't split a pint of blood, yet
Thursday 7th December 2017 4:54 pm
It is not like a tree
In bulk doth make man better be,
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year
To fall a log at last, dry, bald and sere,
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it fall and die that night—
It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see
And in short measures life may perfect be.//
የሰው ትክክለኛ መስፈርት
ሠውን አያደርገውም ከፍ፣
Friday 16th December 2016 10:27 am
Today my heart felt a blow,
By a view so divine.
I let my emotions flow,
Like a 30 year old wine.
There it was in that tiny box,
With pulses of energy shooting through,
That blurry image came across,
Like the inside of a Great Gray Kangaroo.
I felt her hand touching mine,
Held her hand - fingers entwined,
Watching my angel wriggle and shine,
With the life of Us combined.
Tuesday 17th November 2015 12:31 pm
lost spots of sunlight
dreamed into a flower
how a rose is born
Wednesday 22nd July 2015 9:53 pm
A little yellow rose,
in the dead center,
of an emerald garden.
Dying for attention,
from the golden sun.
Like a little boy,
crying for his mother.
I'm freakish and dazed,
shy and awkward silence,
like a teenage boy on his date.
I would say how I feel,
but I lack the words,
to express me.
And everything I say,
comes out as awkward ...
Friday 27th February 2015 3:33 am
The fierce wind blows, yet the dew won't dry
On the petals of the lone rose blossom.
Sparse thorns stand raw, achy reminders
Of the wondrous lost dream of yesterday,
When the two golden birds sat on this branch
Staring into the infinite mirror of their eyes,
Rejoicing in the warmth of their evening song,
Delighting in each other's pure presence,
Basking in the divine light of Nature,
And looking up to the ...
Wednesday 7th January 2015 11:22 pm