Paul Lierman


A Thorn Among Roses


White saturates the air, whisks about and lands
On likewise white hair, and on grey bony hands.

The traveler shudders from within his mottled cloak
And rolls a wretched shoulder, his satchel dark with soak.

Alone he treks forever across the endless, barren plains
Bearing all alone his haunting burdens and his pains.

His plight is great, as is his freight, and his eternal wait
To see the gate, through bitter slate, and cold engulfing hate.

Snow gnashes the air and bloats the ground; white oblivion all around.
Under the dark cowl, ragged breath the only sound, a scowl is found.

Pain has not yet bent his resolve, nor has the fiendish world broken him
Though his life with malice has filled his bitter cup to the brim,
His stride is strong; his fiery eyes have not yet begun to dim.

Submitted: Thursday, January 19, 2012
Edited: Sunday, May 06, 2012

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

I am not sure precisely what this poem is about. I took the idea from a mental image that i received one day in December while looking outside at snow falling down. I do not know what the man is carrying, or why he is so grim, only that he is, and that years of battering elements have done nothing to deter his unshakable determination to accomplish whatever he is trying to do.

Comments about this poem (A Thorn Among Roses by Paul Lierman )

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  • Paul Lierman (1/21/2012 8:23:00 PM)

    excellent question. I have no idea :) i wrote it using a mental picture, not a storyline so really anything you want can be in it. or anything i want more accurately. ;) creative administrative liberty (Report) Reply

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