Flowers With Thorns
In that niche
So dark and deep
I found that delicacy
As red as blood
Just bloomed from a bud
By serene shine
She was stuck with mud
At a side, as I tried
To blow all impurity aside.
Until she shone bright
In the happy summer’s light.
How could she have been there?
How could one be so callous?
I grieved at her fate
I smiled at her innocence
Gazed at her lovely petals
Curling in the breeze of spring
Something curled inside me too.
I begin admiring her beauty
With my skin rolling on her body.
A spell broke
When I saw the red drops
As my skin cried
It knew the beauty had to abide
The law of the divine...
I felt the sorrow arise
When one of the arrows in her armor
The red crown it borrowed from my skin
Shone like a ruby.
Her petals bent a little down
When she saw her master frown
I couldn’t bear the scorn
So I smashed that thing on the ground
In that niche
So dark and deep…
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Comments about this poem (Flowers With Thorns by Vartika Pandey )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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Henry David Thoreau
(12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862)
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