Roses

by goot   Nov 19, 2004


Life is like a rose.
A bud is born.
It blossoms.
It has its prime and beauty.
Sometimes is it plucked and dies prematurely.
eventually it will wither and die.
Life is fragile.

Through the eyes of innocence did i see such a world,
Of beauty.
Never did a rose smell as sweet as when standing proud and tall in its prime.
As a rose, plucked in its prime, hangs limp and dries, not only does its beauty fade.
But the scent of glory, of pride, of beauty.
The scent is drowned by a bitter, sour smell.
The smell of death.
So blunt. So hideous.

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Latest Comments

  • 19 years ago

    by goot

    this is the shittiest poem i have ever written. it has no meaning, no depth. its not even basic enough to build on... ugh... what a loser am i!!

  • 20 years ago

    by Flea

    Lol i just read carries comment on this she's all...ï can write I've been doin'it my whole life"'
    dude anyone can write...it takes skill to make it worth reading...duh
    like your skill with any of your poetry your an excellent poet
    i love all your work
    this one is very bold!!!
    keep scribblin'
    catch ya

  • 20 years ago

    by yup

    A beautiful piece my darling. I enjoyed it immensly. Keep up the fantastic work.

  • 20 years ago

    by Carrie

    hey goot these are good but i no u can do better my work is my own i can wirte you know ive been doin nearly my whole life....

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