Treasure Island

S.zaynub Kamoonpuri


Bed of Roses Or Thorns.


Ooh man, life could well
be a bed of roses
If only love alone
sprinkled from the hoses.

If only love flowed like
an endless stream
If only love didn't end
like a dream.

In all certainty, the
antonym of love
plunges you in the bed
of thorns
Much unlike the agile yet
peaceful dove
love grows weeds, rust
and horns!

I so pity the lovelorn, the
lovesick, the forlorn
whose lover flew out
the window last morn

But I know too of pure
loves that outlast the
storms
for one, they didn't
begin in high school
dorms.

They weren't
instantaneous and
impulsive loves for sure
Less whimsical,
and within the bounds
of the marital bond
their love tis bound to
endure.
In the blissful
hammock of wedlock
fickle lovers simply cannot rock.

Submitted: Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Edited: Monday, February 10, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

My religion forbids premarital physical love.

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