The rose may be beautiful
The rose may be strong
The rose may be delicate
The rose may be exquisite
The rose may be desirable
But every rose has its thorns.
The thorns may be astute
The thorns may be sharp
The thorns may be conscious
The thorns may be original
But every thorn has its own storm.
The storm may be tough
The storm may be relentless
The storm may be foolish
The storm may be afraid
But every storm may adore
And every storm may love
Nevertheless the rose is always there at the end of the storm.
I will always be your rose through the storms.
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If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?
2 comments:
Teardrops and mascara run down my face,
While I’m sitting in this lonely place,
And then you came along,
And I knew that I was strong
BOOM
The sound of my volcano heart,
I get so nervous I let out a fart,
But you let it slide, you play it cool,
Your presence makes me drool,
MOIST.
I can’t believe you’re leaving,
Feels like my heart is bleeding (Mount Vesuvius)
My body is Pompeii,
I hope you visit it someday,
I’ll be your tour guide,
GOODBYE.
I'm thinking of showing this to a boy I like. Tell me what you think please.
Hey, I happened across your poem today and it reminded me of another I found amongst several old things. I don't think I ever had the chance to share it.
I can see it.
Winds are whistling
rain drops are falling
clouds are gathering
But I can see it
sun hiding
wind howling
waves crashing
Lightning strikes
Trees creak
Thunder roars
My Fear heightening
It's rage frightening
My sight never faltering
River flooding
Forest disappearing
Landscape changing
But I endure
I can still see it
My Rose
By:
Crashing waves & Falling stars
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