The whole rose bush shakes
as a breath of wind passes by
A little rose bud shivers
inside the warm green blanket that covers it
But the blanket is becoming too small for the innocent little rose bud
She discards her childish blanket with a breath of relief
For the first time she sees the light and colours
and all the beautifull things in this world
It swells her up with pride of being a rose bud no more
but a beutifull white rose
She holds up her head high, as people walk by admiring her beauty
And there she stayed untill one day.........
She felt a piercing cold metal dig into her beautifull flesh
She was put in a cold glass vase
All she could smell was the smell of dead flowers
Her head drooped in her sadness
Her petals fell of one by one
Because she no longer cares about her apperance
The house keeper seeing the dieing rose was making a mess of her table
threw it out onto the compost heap
What was once a thing of beauty and innocence
Now a wasted dieing piece of vegitation apon a compost heap
All because of human corruption....
whiterose
Hey I would love some feed back on my poem if you like it or have any hints or ideas.....bye!!!!!!!
I like the theme here, WR.
Les
The pain is well conveyed; great write.
At my house oryx will eat the rose. That French guy,, what's his name asked, "Ask yourself, is it important if on a planet you've never heard of a sheep has eaten a rose you've never smelt, does it matter?"
HOWEVER!!! She may have been killed a few weeks early, but she brought beauty to those who beheld her. She fullfilled her destiny. We all sacrifice something to become what we must be. For every gain there is a price to pay. She paid her price, but became so much more admired for a time. We have no knowledge exactly if she was presented to a love as a token. Oft the rose is so given. A life well spent and well told about. Ya done good Gwydion2 ya done real good. Wouldn't change anything.
Gwyd didn‘t write this Terry. Lol