She is a rose...
of course,
It is but natural
she was born
with those thorns...
but thorned or otherwise
she rises in splendour
beauteous in every colour...
her petals, oh so fragrant
When dried, they are more redolent
especially when kept in a sachet...
She brightens our days with
the many colors and tones of her poetry.
some may be sad outbursts,
reactions that could have been stirred
by daily circumstances...
others are gentle reflections,
it doesn't matter...
they are roses arranged in a vase,
or scattered
among a garden of flowers...
she showers us with a variety
of her chosen thoughts for the day...
it is always a mystery,
she keeps us in suspense!
Thorns are an accepted part of her body
even when she tries to spare her fingers,
she gets pricked, just the same,
she deals with the wound
as she would always do,
just as tests of life, like thorns,
are part and parcel of our daily lives...
she knows very well those roads to be taken
and those to be avoided...
On a stressful or gloomy day
when our spirits are clouded,
almost sagging towards the ground,
when under the weather
when restless or anxious, or
when needing solace,
the rose-y colors of her poetry
do their best to comfort us
some days they are red
other times, pinkish
other days they are yellow
or immaculately white,
peach-y, at times, seeming delicious
one may be tempted to have a bite...
Don't know how or why...but we
must not question these miracles of God...
time comes for a rose to be dormant...
during these winter moments in her life
she lives, she exists in silence...but
underneath, her mind is so alive....
From deep inside, she writes,
she hears, she reads,
gathering pictures, words,
anything important in sight
wherever, whatever the source
her cloth-bound journal is always ready
to record her new-found discovery
all pages would soon be consumed...
a new one to take its place, is presumed.
Petals may fall or pinched one by one,
her stem, may be left to stand on the ground
but strength is like second skin to this rose
she has risen above past thorny episodes
surely, she will rise above future ones,
if they come...
these days, she is in some kind
of a wonderful state...
i pray she will always be that way.
she is a sturdy wall to lean on,
she is indomitable...
her stem may sway,
she may bend, but
she rarely snaps
she is a rose...and
will always be
a rose...
Her name is KELLY ROSE...
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A, Bayan
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 6:15 AM UTC
She is a rose...
of course,
It is but natural
she was born
with those thorns...
but thorned or otherwise
she rises in splendour
beauteous in every colour...
her petals, oh so fragrant
When dried, they are more redolent
especially when kept in a sachet...
She brightens our days with
the many colors and tones of her poetry.
some may be sad outbursts,
reactions that could have been stirred
by daily circumstances...
others are gentle reflections,
it doesn't matter...
they are roses arranged in a vase,
or scattered
among a garden of flowers...
she showers us with a variety
of her chosen thoughts for the day...
it is always a mystery,
she keeps us in suspense!
Thorns are an accepted part of her body
even when she tries to spare her fingers,
she gets pricked, just the same,
she deals with the wound
as she would always do,
just as tests of life, like thorns,
are part and parcel of our daily lives...
she knows very well those roads to be taken
and those to be avoided...
On a stressful or gloomy day
when our spirits are clouded,
almost sagging towards the ground,
when under the weather
when restless or anxious, or
when needing solace,
the rose-y colors of her poetry
do their best to comfort us
some days they are red
other times, pinkish
other days they are yellow
or immaculately white,
peach-y, at times, seeming delicious
one may be tempted to have a bite...
Don't know how or why...but we
must not question these miracles of God...
time comes for a rose to be dormant...
during these winter moments in her life
she lives, she exists in silence...but
underneath, her mind is so alive....
From deep inside, she writes,
she hears, she reads,
gathering pictures, words,
anything important in sight
wherever, whatever the source
her cloth-bound journal is always ready
to record her new-found discovery
all pages would soon be consumed...
a new one to take its place, is presumed.
Petals may fall or pinched one by one,
her stem, may be left to stand on the ground
but strength is like second skin to this rose
she has risen above past thorny episodes
surely, she will rise above future ones,
if they come...
these days, she is in some kind
of a wonderful state...
i pray she will always be that way.
she is a sturdy wall to lean on,
she is indomitable...
her stem may sway,
she may bend, but
she rarely snaps
she is a rose...and
will always be
a rose...
Her name is KELLY ROSE...
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A, Bayan
For you, dear Kelly Rose...I hope you like it.
Stay as sweet as you are...
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