Adam M. Snow
Adam M. Snow Poems
- A Dying Rose A Dying Rose By: Adam M. Snow Helplessly I...
- A Bridge That Binds A Bridge that Binds By: Adam M. Snow ...
- I Wonder I wonder, I wonder if this life is life at all; ...
- The Life Of A Rose We live to die, like a rose shown ...
- Under The Innocent Sky Under the innocent sky, ever serene ...
- Be Still Beating Heart your pounding intrudes me. It fills ...
- The Writer In a sea of words, where writers drown. Lost ...
'To deny God is to deny creation, to deny creation is to deny your existence.' –Adam M. Snow
Profession: Poet/writer, Philosopher & Photographer
Adam M. Snow is a popular internet poet/writer, philosopher and photographer known by many. Snow was born May 30th of 1988 in Phoenix, Arizona. He currently lives in El Mirage, a small rural town in the western Arizona. Adam is Shakespeare’s twenty second generation descendant on Shakespeare's mother’s sister’s side; from the blood lines of Margaret Arden and Sir Alexander Webb. When Adam was born, he was lacked of oxygen and almost died. At age 5, Adam was soon diagnosed with ADHD with speech impediment; he was always in and ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Quotationsmore quotations »
'''The writer's mind, can surpass even the most intellectual minds.'''Adam M. Snow
'''Forever is not forever; there's only one eternity.'''Adam M. Snow
'''An enemy is a friend, who's blind and cannot see the kindness of your heart.'''Adam M. Snow
'''If we forget the past, then the past do we repeat.'''Adam M. Snow
'''Poetry is the thoughts of an insane mind.'''Adam M. Snow
A Dying Rose
A Dying Rose
By: Adam M. Snow
Helplessly I wait upon the hour, drawing closely;
I, myself ponder tremendously.
Do my eyes deceive what once was a rose?
And by that, does it be a rose no longer?
I speak to be heard once more,
and once more to be heard by that rose.
But I cannot see that of the beauty of her face,
yet her eyes glances swiftly beyond my essence.
Could it be? Oh could it be,
that my essence is enough to guide thee?
I am but one in groups of many,
she sees not I but one in twenty.
She is that of a dying rose,