Rose & Thorn Poetry

I wrote this poem while I was waiting for my car to be fixed. I always carry a notepad for occasions like this. Boredom leads to creative things, in this case a poem. The Tree The tree so tall and stately, One forgets it waited so patiently. From its tiny days when it was born, When it grew out of tiny acorn, It waited while it grew to form. On rainy days or sunny warm, It persisted through it all. And then one day, it was so tall.

Dandelion Fluff She stands in the field Of fuzzy white tops, And in her hand she holds A dandelion gone to seed, Its petals turned to fluff. She closes her eyes and makes a wish And with the gentle breeze she blows. In the wind they float away, Float away on wings of fluff.  A gossamer display on a backdrop of blue, The seeds of the once bright yellow flower, Unhurried and unworried  They buoyantly drift in the breeze. Though the flower is dead, The seeds still yet live, And will bloom in the field once again.

This one took a long time to finish. It started out very short, but as I thought about what keeping silent means and what it does, the poem kept growing. There is a time to be silent and a time to speak up. What happens when it is time to speak and you don’t? I’ve seen what silence and a lack of communication can do to people and to relationships and to myself. This is something I struggle with, being an introvert and all. I’m not big on chatting in general or being vulnerable and open. But I’m trying to change that, to be the best version of me I can be, even as an introvert, because I’ve seen the harm of silence. It can be more destructive than you might think. Keeping Silent Silence is golden A venerable mystique. But sometimes it’s not, Sometimes it’s weak Can people read minds, Do they know how you feel, Can they see through your eyes, Or hear through your ears? You have to tell them, You have to speak. …1... What good is a compliment if it is left unsaid What good is symp...

 Sometimes in life the things we never want to happen, actually happen. The thoughts and emotions during that time are crazy. Even after it's all over, it's not completely over because it will always be apart of your life. But when you get through the thing you never wanted to face, you are a different person, and that is not always a bad thing. It takes great strength to face fears. Fears It stands in front of you looming, The monster in your mind. The dark fear, The one you run from, the one you hide from. The nightmare you can never face. It taunts and jeers and foretells doom. A cringing creak that creeps on through, Belligerent intent dominates night’s noon, Causing one’s sleep to end so soon. The worry, the dread, the unseen end,  The cost, the pain, the disloyal friend. Heavy weights that crush the throat, Tall jagged cliffs that daunt you the most, Impossible climb in nonexistent time, That dark and dismal race, a part in which you must partake,...

The warmth of concrete on a golden summer eve, And the chill of concrete on a grey winter’s morn, The way it feels changes with the seasons. Whether cold or warm, joyful or forlorn, One is not perfect nor better than another. It’s simply a matter of difference; Favored seasons exist as a concern of preference. Warm days of sunshine and pensive days of rain, Bright days of happiness, dark days of pain, An opposite for everything, within a never ending range. The reason for seasons and the reason for change? There is something good within all life’s alterations And experience to be gained in every frustration, Strength to be built from every temptation. Unearth the treasured moments with diligent fixation, And enjoy their splendor to full duration, But don’t love a season so greatly, That you aren’t willing to part sedately, To kindly say adieu, And welcome the next debut.