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A Promise Long Forgotten by ~eternalwanderer:iconeternalwanderer:



A single rose blooms in a barren field
Despite all hope it survives
Its thorns, guarding and yet gracing
The long green stem,
One man walks upon this field,
He sees the flower in all its brilliance
But in his ignorance he kneels
Towards it and takes it in his hands,
As his finger tips reach the flower,
The rose begins to finish its flourish
And then as its petals start falling
Upon the ground, it dies
The man digs deep into the earth
And whispers to the dying land
A promise that had been forgotten long ago,
This is not the world that my children will see
He says,
For them I leave a brighter future
He gathers the petals in his hands,
And buries them along with the promise.
©2003-2009 ~eternalwanderer
:iconeternalwanderer:

Author's Comments

I wrote this for a class, but it actually turned out well.

Comments


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:iconsaro-n-mizary:
I like this poem
Its hopeful and well written
Good job

--
I have no more cute things to say, this is just me stripped
:iconmoonsparked:
interesting. sad yet hopeful.
i like the metaphore for when man touches the earth, things fall apart. because of ignorance.

:iconcalthas:
a like the poem, here is a small suggestion, you (like many people and even I am still working on this) add in words that are not needed like this : Its thorns, guarding and yet gracing no with that line it is very good but if you take out either the and or the yet it will add a better flow to the poem.


--
Do not follow me for I will lead you into pain. Do not allow me to follow you for I will hurt you. Walk beside me and we may go forever.

creator of and member of -----> :iconwith-pen-in-hand:
:iconmetalheart:
Mmmm...this is beautiful. I picture a monochromatic scene with a vivid red rose. Perfect imagery.
:iconvespera:
I agree with mary (saro) and caltha's thoughts.
Interesting subject, wonderful trail of motions. Nice deviation =D (Big Grin)

--
Your musky lips, cramping smoke into halos,
love to finger obscenities and slander. I am a bitch now.
Don’t touch her now, this thing of waste. She’s
Empty. She’s full of spite.

Details

March 11, 2003

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