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The weeping rose (poem)

El hariyamer

Order of the Green
A poem I wrote while I was feeling bored. Have fun trying to figure out what it's about. Don't forget to review.

The weeping rose

Soars the singing ice-thrush,
Above the winds and snows,
Beyond the frosted glaze-spring,
Before the weeping rose.

The thrush is but a single bird.
But to the death he tries.
Frenzy, frosty, fiery flight.
He sings it as he flies.

A song of dreams, of stillness
Of hopes and deep desires
Of broken hearts that try so hard
Stoked by internal fires

Icy breezes bluster and blow
The rage of wind and sky
Ever blowing, never showing
What they hide-or why.

Zephyr’s white art blows deeply
Yet upon wind spins time.
A chorus, cacophony
A melody sublime.

Wall of glass, shield of ice
True mirror of beyond
What does it hide, what lies inside
Just a frozen, empty pond?

Deeper still, a canyon
Or plateau, plain and droll
The greatest of all treasures
Or just nothing at all.

Wings of gold slice the air.
Raging winds turn and blow.
And yet the thrush rushes on
For what he does not know.

Breaking through the tempest,
The thrush intones new songs
Of hidden pasts, upturned at last
Of renewed, righted wrongs.

Skims the singing ice-thrush
Below the winds and snows
Drawing close the glaze-spring
Beyond the weeping rose.

Beyond the frosted glaze-spring
She turned to watch him go
And softly sheds a single tear
Silently, slowly so.

Why does the rose weep?
For whom does she mourn?
Not for herself, not for the thrush.
Perhaps for something spurned.

A thousand crystal facets
Glittering in repose
Glowing like the morning star
The tear of the rose.

Inside the single teardrop
A mirror of the world
Yet twisted, blackened, scarred
As slowly it unfurls.

A vulture circles, cawing.
Over the flames and snows
Beyond the fractured iceberg
Before the wilted rose.

Beyond, the ice-thrush charges
Upon the mirror mild.
Driven by the force of wind,
He flays the barrage vile.

The glaze-spring buckles, shudders.
But tenaciously it holds.
The thrush renews his assault
For the glory of the rose.

And then the mirror shatters.
The wind scatters the shards
The thrush falls limp, yielding
To the fury of the darts.

Upon the rose the thrush alights
The flower snaps and throws
The petals into disarray
And the tear of the rose.

The tear falls, splashes.
The winds cease to blow.
The thrush lays forever still.
The shards lose their glow.

Time spins a tune eternal.
Cycles spin below.
The wind is ever changing
Following the flow.

Soars the chirping robin.
Above the gardens lush.
Beyond the serene millpond.
Near the blooming rosebush.

But frozen in the darkness,
Bent in wind’s contemptuous pose
A lone thrush feather, frozen
In the tear of the rose.
 

Kutie Pie

"It is my destiny."
Oh, I'm crying now and my heart weeps...

This is beautiful. The title brought me here. It's just beautiful. The sad rose...A personification is pretty common in poems, right? This is great. If my Literature teacher and English teacher read this, they would absolutely adore it.

Great work. Can't wait for more! May your blessing continue to blossom like the rosebush in the poem. *hands cake and hugs, crying*

~~~~~~~~~
♥Kutie Pie♥ Please be kind to midgets!
 
K

Kani Tarma

Guest
...I'm sorry but no words can be descibed the words, they seem to have come from the soul...{wow that came out confusing}...You did this while boered? I find this to be cleansing for the soul actually...I hope to god that you make some more poems...great job, 10 tumbs up!:D
 
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