A Dying Rose Poem by 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,
shedding that of blackened petals;
a black rose, I say so myself.
Doomed by what the world gave to thee;
a single tear drop, which falls and taints the ground.
And by that passing hour; she, herself would wilt away.
The unrequited love when one sets a person on a pedestal is the hardest love to get over..roses are beautiful but they have thorns just like Love does..good poem a ten keep on writing poetry..i read your biography...
The unrequited love when one sets a person on a pedestal is the hardest love to get over..roses are beautiful but they have thorns just like Love does..good poem a ten keep on writing poetry..i read your biography...
Even in death a rose is beautiful. In our own dying hours people give us roses, because they are so truly beautiful. On our graves a rose beautifully shows our love for another, then through the days it also dies, but has left it's reminder in our minds and pictures we have taken. Great poem - made me think. Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn
a beautiful poem about a dying rose. though still lovely in her dying hour
but still, though dying as she may be, a beauty is what we can see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/17/2024 3:34:36 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Ok I have a thing about roses, reason why I often stop and see other peoples stanz on how they see them, I love the flow of your write, its really easy to follow, your a brillant poet be cool to read more of your poems