Weaving the paths of glory and nearness,
I have plucked you flowers to see you smile,
Care not the thorns, I touch their tenderness,
Bleeding yet smiling,
I conceal the pain,
For beloved you are, more the joy when I touch the thorns,
Than when you touch the pain to see me smile…
Harsh times and time too strange to cope,
Torn between love and fate,
I live a life, which I am not,
As I scorn and chide,
I trouble the paths in solemn silence,
And vision too rude,
Unraveling love, I seek a sight,
Of a Fair Lady that I lost,
Who cast a cover of some darn damsel,
With heart of anger than love and warmth,
Attempts too true, went vain, were though not vague,
Of a longing that is but an illusion.
When my heart ere love, warmth, closeness and joy,
Your folly mind derails your heart,
Giving me fragrance of somber solitude and pain,
Which resembles love to you my dear!
4 comments:
last two lines of the first paragraph. its awsomeee.
thanks. and didn't you like, "from pools of blood, we rise like a deep red rose?"
P, this poem is still vague and abstract. :(
why do you think so? :-)
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