Edwin Cordero


Roses Without Thorns


My apologies to you, Rose,
For misunderstanding
Where we were to go
Or what would happen.

You had been plucked long ago,
But desired to fasten
Yourself on solid soil
In the hopes of lasting.

My tears pour through
For what you chose.
A beauty for all to view
Disrobed.

No thorns on their clothes;
I am left to suppose
That you did it to cope—
Cloaked.

Now I understand that's not what you were to do,
But you have to remember that I was young too;
I had not a clue to foresee the brew—
And save you.

I can imagine those men up in the stands,
Passing wrapped roses from hand to hand,
And you're left in a trance, once again,
Until you wither and are forgotten.

Submitted: Monday, December 31, 2012
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Roses Without Thorns by Edwin Cordero )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. (1) The Ceaseless Waves of Sorrow, Uriah Hamilton
  2. An Ode to a Toad Named Frank, Susan Sparks
  3. The Path, Deepak Hariharan
  4. A Hymn to God, Dr John Celes
  5. The Facebook Poem, Alan W. Jankowski
  6. The Jerk At Work, Alan W. Jankowski
  7. When Friends Betray Friends, Alan W. Jankowski
  8. My Love Did Sometimes Wander, Alan W. Jankowski
  9. No Help At All, Alan W. Jankowski
  10. The Bird, the Cat, the Monster and I…., Poetheart (back)

Poem of the Day

poet Sir Walter Scott

The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,
And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day;
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]