Glass rose
Glass rose

you used to use your thorns
to protect the glass casing that you were in from breaking
but soon your fragile shell was shattered
and the shards of glass pierced your velvet petals
and the sap in your veins cried in agony…
but over time you learnt to coexist with the pain
and those sharp edges that once hurt you
now shone, and sparkled
glimmering in the light…
and you realised
you were NOT the glass
not fragile..
but you had the power to blossom…
and bloom so your fragrance could be felt
and your petals could radiate colours of strength and grace
red with specks of gold
and you saw that you were more than just a rose
you were a glass rose…
and you were finally alive

Simran

After spending 15 years on this earth I have begun to understand the seasons…
Sometimes I’m like the seasons…constantly changing but usually predictable…
But most of the times I’m like the water… moving, flowing, discovering new paths… brimmed to the top with poetry, life and curiosity… learning the old philosophies of the lands I travel through and capturing them as art.


@picturing_poetry04

Ouevre

Cardiograph

Poetry by Simran

Each heart beat, Is unique in its moment A splash of colour Some call it art I call it life
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Be a moon

Poetry by Simran

Be a moon Float in the midst of An endless galaxy Be wild so the wolves will look up at night And howl Be peaceful in your solitude So the...
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The struggle seemed so insignificant now

Poetry by Simran

The struggle seemed so insignificant now, Like tiny dots that become of people, That had once seemed so intimidating, Are now no more than grains, Caught in the whirlwind of...
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Anthology

The End of the Road

Poetry by Knute Skinner

He walks along the possible road, one deliberate step ahead of the next. At the end of the road, it may be, there’ll be sustenance, shelter, a sensation of sympathetic...
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ST Colmans Well – Oughtmama

Poetry by Frank Golden

Is there a code of seeing what is or is not present? This tree by Colman’s well melted into its heartspace. This coil of life in its own soil, making...
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Held

Poetry by Arwa Qutbuddin

Held By earth By the realness of existence And all its illusions By warm stars in a fragrant night By shadows of clouds and torn leaves Held By the roots...
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