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.
