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Poems

Holden Feldbauer Dec 2015
I've fallen into a rosebush,
For I was in far too much of a rush,
Now I lay stuck, and fresh out of luck,
As I scramble in the bramble.

But this bush is not as it seems,
For there is movement at the seams.
The movement is hushed,
And my pleas it has shushed,
As it beams into my dreams.

It's too late,
I can't change my fate,
Give up on the fight,
And everything will be alright.

I scream and I shout,
But no one is willing to bring this change about.
Only too late do I see,
That there are hundreds of others just like me.
None of them thinking,
Their wills shrinking,
Lost to the rosebush,
Their voices a collective hush.

But not all is lost,
Because at a great cost,
I have written this warning:
**Beware the rosebush if your individuality you will be mourning.
Autumn Rose Sep 2016
I had a
little rosebush.
Red roses it
would not
bear, but
white
pearls
and silver bells.
The King's daughter
came
one day to
see my
little rosebush.
Her dress was
made of
silk and lace,
golden was
her long hair.
She asked for
my white
pearls and
my silver bells.
I said
"For a fair princess
like you I
have never seen!
I shall give
you my white
pearls and
my silver bells!"
She made a
necklace from
my
white pearls and
put them
on her neck,
she sewed my
silver bells on
her silky
lace dress.
So they suited
her very well!