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Lena Nov 13
He’s pretty, heΒ Β gleams like the fresh morning dew;
Often I picture myself waking up next to you.
But vines they invade those beautiful dreams;
Piercing my thoughts with thorns oh so sharp.
Because under that rose tinted facade,
Rests the roots of this bush, warped, gnarled, and odd.
So I guess what I mean to say;
But not in a mean way;
This rosebush needs pruning, my babe.
My boyfriend has been especially cold to me lately, but I couldn't bear to share my thoughts with him. I hope you all can glean some meaning from this poem.
Hamna Apr 2021
I am lost
In the wilderness of my youth
I fight
with every ounce of my might
To keep the dark forest of desires away from haunting me
I try to flee
To the right path, I see
but thorny branches of nightmarish trees grab me so maliciously
And reach my heart
To pour some venom
I sink
Into a shuddering oblivion
The soulless devil invites me to his enmity
I refuse
As I hearken the sanity
My Lord had provided me
And I cling to it like ivy
Indeed, My Lord helped me to seek Him
Before the devil and the sinful hankerings sought me
Jordan LC Murphy Jan 2021
ℭ𝔬𝔩𝔑 π”…π”©π”žπ” π”¨ β„œπ”¬π”°π”’

𝔉𝔒𝔒𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔀 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔒𝔩𝔢 π”²π”«π”΄π”žπ”«π”±π”’π”‘ π”žπ”«π”‘ 𝔲𝔰𝔒𝔑,
𝔐𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔑𝔒 π”žπ”«π”‘ π”ͺ𝔢 𝔒𝔀𝔬 𝔦𝔰 π”Ÿπ”―π”²π”¦π”°π”’π”‘,
𝔖𝔬π”ͺ𝔒𝔬𝔫𝔒 𝔱𝔬 π”₯𝔬𝔩𝔑 π”ͺ𝔒 𝔴π”₯𝔦𝔩𝔒 β„‘'π”ͺ 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱 π”žπ”«π”‘ 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔣𝔲𝔰𝔒𝔑,
𝔖𝔬π”ͺ𝔒𝔬𝔫𝔒 𝔱𝔬 π” π”žπ”―π”’ 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱π”₯𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔀π”₯ π”ž 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔒 𝔬𝔣 𝔑𝔦𝔰𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔒𝔰,
π”π”žπ”Άπ”Ÿπ”’ 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 π”ͺ𝔒 𝔱π”₯𝔒 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔫 𝔬𝔣 π”π”žπ” π”¨ 𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔱,
𝔗𝔬 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔑 𝔱𝔬 𝔱π”₯𝔒 π”₯π”’π”žπ”―π”± 𝔣𝔬𝔯 π”ž 𝔭𝔒𝔯𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔒,
π”‰π”²π”€π”žπ”·π”¦ π”©π”žπ”²π”€π”₯ π”žπ”«π”‘ π”ž 𝔰π”ͺ𝔦𝔩𝔒 β„‘ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 β„‘ π”₯𝔦𝔑𝔒 𝔴𝔒𝔩𝔩,
𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔱π”₯𝔦𝔰 π”žπ”«π”€π”²π”¦π”°π”₯ π”žπ”«π”‘ π”­π”žπ”¦π”« π”Ÿπ”’π”₯𝔦𝔫𝔑 π”ͺ𝔢 π”€π”©π”žπ”°π”° 𝔱𝔬 𝔱π”₯𝔒 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔑,
β„‘ 𝔣𝔒𝔒𝔩 𝔰𝔬 𝔒π”ͺ𝔭𝔱𝔢 π”žπ”«π”‘ π”₯𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔀𝔒𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔀 𝔲𝔫𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔒𝔑,
β„‘'π”ͺ 𝔱π”₯π”žπ”± 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔀𝔩𝔒 π”Ÿπ”©π”žπ” π”¨ 𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔒 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔱π”₯𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠π”₯,
ℭ𝔬π”ͺ𝔭𝔩𝔒𝔡 π”Ÿπ”Ά 𝔑𝔒𝔰𝔦𝔀𝔫 π”žπ”«π”‘ 𝔰π”₯𝔒𝔦𝔩𝔑𝔒𝔑 𝔴𝔦𝔱π”₯ 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔨𝔒𝔰,
𝔖𝔬 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔑 𝔭𝔯𝔒𝔱𝔱𝔢 π”žπ”«π”‘ 𝔒𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔀,
π”œπ”’π”± 𝔱𝔬𝔬 π”‘π”žπ”«π”€π”’π”―π”¬π”²π”° 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔒 𝔬𝔯 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔒,
β„­π”¬π”Ÿ π”΄π”’π”Ÿπ”° 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔨 𝔑𝔯𝔒𝔰𝔰𝔒𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔒 π”‘π”―π”žπ”­π”¦π”«π”€ π”ͺ𝔢 π”©π”’π”žπ”³π”’π”°,
𝔄𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔀 𝔴𝔦𝔱π”₯ π”―π”žπ”·π”¬π”― 𝔦𝔠𝔒 𝔰π”₯π”žπ”―π”‘π”°,
β„‘ π”‘π”žπ”―π”’ 𝔢𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔨 π”ͺ𝔒!
Sabila Siddiqui Jul 2019
She gave away the petals of love,
leaving the thorny stems behind.
annh Jul 2019
You build your nest of pretty words,
Sly threads of verbiage,
Plucked from outworn phrases,
Secondhand sentiments and frayed metaphors.

A thorny simile, a faded pink ribbon,
Of rhetoricΒ woven with silky streamers;
A warp and weft of fond and found,
Borrowed references and stolen verses.

You recycle the shining heart,
Of another’s penmanship,
Modelling it into a tarnished,
Uninspired and untitled composition
...OF YOUR OWN...

β€˜I get a lot of big ideas, and occasionally I actually come up with one myself.’
- Bauvard, Some Inspiration for the Overenthusiastic
Avaleen Jun 2018
Each wilted word that fell from those thorny lips only bred despair. but. those piercing lips and sharpened tongue
which mercilessly cut others down
also cut itself to shattered bits
every. single. time.
you'll sense much friction
whence the ladies come into contact
they'll show an outer courtesy
toward each other
yet be privately thinking
I'm not fond of her

there's no love lost
no not at all
between them there's
a thorny wall

the forced pleasantries
are a dead give away
it's not hard for an interpreter
to see through the display

you'll wonder
who or what?
lies in the middle
of their stance
which doesn't fail
to catch the translator's
glance
Dandelion spirit, and a thorny rose fighter.

You can't go carelessly picking up flowers without expecting one to be a biter.

For every petal that wilts, you'll get a sting.

Prickly thorns clinging to every single thing.

Nature can be soft and sweet, but in every beautiful landscape there is a nearby guarding beast.

You cannot deceive flowers, for you are already deceived.

The petals sheild a warrior, and their sword is hungry to feed.
for ashley, one of my closest friends in the world and perhaps the one i hold closest to my heart. sometimes my maternal instincts take over and i feel the need to protect you from everything i can, but then i remember, you are so much stronger than youre given credit for. i'm so proud of you! i love you! thank you for being apart of my life
Jack Jenkins Apr 2016
I forgot when I
Plucked you
From the rose bush
You had thorns

The blood dripping
From my heart
Reminded me
You still hurt
K Balachandran Nov 2014
A cactus he loved, all he saw was beauty in her,
the fascinating patterns,were engagingly intriguing,
she sought his thorns, to naturally reciprocate,
to love him, the way she always had known that art.

Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Never could she find, even one, however she tried,
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β  thorns weren't his attraction, was she disappointed?
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β  she had to learn  love transactions, eliminating thorns,
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β  then, everything in place had fallen one by one.
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