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(Not) Meant To Be Here
April 10, 2014
I spotted you.
Walking through a
deep meadow
of tulips, daisies, and such.
There I was, a prickly weed.
Not meant to
be beautiful.
Yet somehow,
that was all you could see.
As time passed though, you grew
tired of thorns terrorizing your
gentle hands.
You had already tore me
from my roots.
And when you tried
to let go, to replant me where
I belong,
I died.
© Sean C., Wilmington, MA
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This article has 6 comments.
TheOceansBlackBird SILVER said...
on Jul. 8 2014 at 12:06 am
I really loved this home. I am not actuially a big fan of love poetry but this is just so simple and makes such a big inpact in such a little time that I found I enjoyed it very much. This was amazing. please keep writing : )
angelpeach23 SILVER said...
on Apr. 28 2014 at 1:57 am
Really love the symbolism behind it. "A prickly weed" is just a great image. I think this poem is pretty good, but the ending seems kind of abrupt. I think it would benefit you if you made the last part flow into "I died." However, perhaps that is your intention in it being abrupt. That's just my suggestion, nice job!
pinkplants PLATINUM said...
on Apr. 27 2014 at 8:05 pm
thank you very much.
39 articles 0 photos 18 comments
Favorite Quote:
“Whatever you are physically...male or female, strong or weak, ill or healthy--all those things matter less than what your heart contains. If you have the soul of a warrior, you are a warrior. All those other things, they are the glass that contains the lamp, but you are the light inside.”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel