She is rose.
There are no delusions of grandeur when understanding her because her grandeur is undeniable.
To love rose, I shed the boundaries within myself.
Her thorns may draw blood
Her delicate and tasteful nature draws insects and parasites to her leaves.
Sustains her.
Some do not like her fragrance, but I am enticed by it.
Yes, her appearance is delicate yet I know her power,
Even harsh words in her presence wilts her creamy leaves.
They no longer are silk to my touch when I possess malcontent.
She will die if I don’t love her.
She will perish if I neglect her roots, her stem, her leaves, her petals.
Her Heart.
I bend, touching the cold soil with earthworms at my knees.
I watch my blood flow as she pricks me.
From loving her, I know it is a harmless wound.
Her presence and her goodness confirm bloodshed as worthy sacrifice.
Can anyone deny her simplicity and grace?
If I do not accept her pricks, she will leave.
Another flower may return in her stead, but it will not be my rose.
In my heart, none can compare
She will leave me to perish
My unkindness will be the same as setting a bull upon her roots
to tear at her insides without concern.
For this life, I will care for rose.
I accept her as she is.
Alas, I know to be blessed.
I found love through the thorny rose.


  1. so beautiful. it's good to see you writing poetry again.

  2. Anonymous12:32 PM

    Hey what a great site keep up the work its excellent.

  3. awww...shucks..thanks! (blushing)

  4. Anonymous7:10 PM

    Very pretty design! Keep up the good work. Thanks.

  5. Anonymous9:13 PM

    This site is one of the best I have ever seen, wish I had one like this.

  6. Anonymous1:07 PM

    I find some information here.


Post a Comment

Popular Posts