Introducing
by Andrea W R Jones

 

Thorns Torn From The Rose

 

Thorns torn from the rose

Delicate petals

Only a few can hear.

Their silent, unheard.. albeit, wailing tears

 

A tear, be it silent

Yet, there are some, which thou’st can hear.

A master, no matter how rich

He can only draw so near.

 

It should be such

The beauty once given

Now to be sought

Man, who careth not

A man who kindles.. a soul detached,..

Removed thoughts, such men no not

 

Be it a rose, or be it a thorn

May the beauty once taken all

Not once, nor twice,

Yet thrice.. again.

 

Such be now the thorn

Ripped once from your heights

Now sealed from man's sight...

No longer shall you drown in silent, invisible tears

 

Words are simple, for some, may you hearth say

Other's, there are those who will always silent, stay

But to whometh, that, I cannot say.

 

Yet one thing words will forever find in common,..

Like the thorns ripped from a rose

Torn, by those who know, of such forlorn, long years..

Only to stand close.. not knowing

How far.. you now stand near!

 

Words, such as your petals

Scattered

Now only by the wind

Shall always tell the truth..

No man is thine master

 

Words, many seem to those so simple

Yet for others..

Thay, will always hear..

 

Drop slowly now your petals

As do the thorns, once torn from your spears

Once felled

Now sealed

Behind the walls, of your once,..

Wailing, and Invisible tears.

 

 

 

 

 

I Walk Within The Storm

 

Still. I walk within the storm.

I find it, as I did the day before

A moment's rest

Tears and shadows lie,.

This will be, the final test

 

With sured heart I clasp

Onto days, sunken,

Whispers heard often

As I walk through the storm

Should I ever be at rest?

 

Found many men before me

I take no final bow

It is for those whom now surround me

This is theirs,

I walk toward you now.

 

A body torn at best

I remember well long

Your barb and thistles..

Should you be my guest,

Today silent, but tomorrow

A triumphant, noble quest!

 

Take no time to question

How long the storm shall last

Only heed, the long lingering stretch..

What one can do!

When put to the test.

 

As I walk within the storm

I gathered strength,

A stable soundness

 

It is all you need now to know

To finish this chapter of deceit

That upon written deeds

I not only once walked within the storm.

 

 I am now the storm.

 

 

 

 

 

Broken Glass

 

See me through this broken glass

Small fragile hands, unable to grasp

Together, we walked down the crooked and beaten path.

I wait now, eyes open.. Unable to grasp!

 

Our bare feet once ran freely.

We felt nothing as we walked upon this broken glass.

 

Yet one small day, no more is our reflection!

I selfishly chose not to see.. the growing imperfections

 

A borrowed face, lips lying,

What is it to feel that which threatens you?

Does this not astound you?!

 

The battles we wore proudly.

Yet never won.

Lines, you wrote, spoke loudly

The day drifts slowly, into the setting sun

 

Do you still see me through the broken glass?

The spindle turns loudly!

The fine sand turns slowly

Aging lines & tempered glass.

 

Pride falls heavy, blinded. I did not see.

With swollen eyes, yours always shielded me

 

Too late. Aged fate.

Why doth your love now elude me?

 

I reach for which now I envy

Fragile hands ask: “What lies are left?”

“Nothing,” it replied, played in a note off key.

 

Hands now old, finally, do they ask?

If you still see me. through this old, and broken glass.

 

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