Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Isobel G Mar 2011
How could such sweetness,
Lie in the deppest sorrow,
Piercingly delicate,
Tormenting me,
With perfection,
That is just out of reach
©Nicola-Isobel H.       18.03.2011
Poetic T Feb 2014
Beware the petals of which you pluck,
as though the stalk may have the thorns,
the petals can cut sharper than any thorn
may go instead.
  
For beauty is an illusion that can hide a
worse fate, to lie on a bed of petals a
thousand paper cuts dilute you innocence
lying  on a layer of silk knifes.
  
I would have taken the thorns any day,
as they show you what they are. Instead of
hiding the secrets within beauty more trouble
for the unwise who fear the thorns.

Though it is the petals that have the deppest cut instead.
Edmundo Nov 2023
Such that I wish one day
I could wordly say
And shoot
A micelle arrow of celestial connotation
And penetrate the deppest of sky’s blue
Shedding light upon
A dawn over the horizon
Setting a miserly word upon the sayings
About the future’s unbeholden prayers
And arrow’s seething slayers
I can't be blue
They want yellow
Mild and light
Or green
Who is understandable
Aceptable as violet
Common as red
All the spectrum of the light
In the realms of a kaleidoscope
I want to be melancholy
Paint over the azure
Staining in tones of midnight navy
Its OK to be morose
It's a part of the pallete
After all, you wanted to live?
You wanted to feel?
So feel
Mix it up in cobalt
Inky to almost black
Let my expression alone
I want to feel sorrow
In shades of deppest indigo
To drift on the blue spiral arms
Just around the milkyway

— The End —