Okay... heres a little something i wrote... its too late for me to be up, but i couldn't fall asleep because stupidly i had some coffee a bit too late... so in my bout of insomnia i wrote this... questions comments welcome

The Rose

I once had a rose
clipped from a bush
its petals in crimson
and tightly woven
i put it in a vase
to preserve its beauty
to hold to its color
to keep its memory

as the days went by
the flower began to bloom
its petals opened
its color still true
I delighted in it's scent
as it livened my room
it brought life to my space
defeating the blue

but the flower grew weary
being so far from it's home
its petals lost color
signaling it's doom
it's scent grew faint
no longer was it fresh
its petal's wrinkled
preparing for death

and as i watched it
a tear grew in my eye
so i removed it from the vase
and hung it to dry
its petals held fast
to its strong thorned stem
its beauty preserved
even in it's death
the color still brilliant
but no longer crimson
it lays on my table
a memory of beauty
a comfortable end

yea... i know its not in any kind of common meter or anything... like i said its late at night and i just jotted this down to occupy my mind instead of sitting in the dark doing nothing...

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"in the end, it is not the words of our enemies that we remeber, but the silence of our friends"
Martin Luther King Jr.

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The Answer by Rudyard Kipling

A Rose, in tatters on the garden path,
Cried out to God and murmured ’gainst His Wrath,
Because a sudden wind at twilight’s hush
Had snapped her stem alone of all the bush.
And God, Who hears both sun-dried dust and sun,
Had pity, whispering to that luckless one,
“Sister, in that thou sayest We did not well —
What voices heardst thou when thy petals fell?”
And the Rose answered, “In that evil hour
A voice said, ‘Father, wherefore falls the flower?
For lo, the very gossamers are still.’
And a voice answered, ‘Son, by Allah’s will!’”

Then softly as a rain-mist on the sward,
Came to the Rose the Answer of the Lord:
“Sister, before We smote the Dark in twain,
Ere yet the stars saw one another plain,
Time, Tide, and Space, We bound unto the task
That thou shouldst fall, and such an one should ask.”
Whereat the withered flower, all content,
Died as they die whose days are innocent;
While he who questioned why the flower fell
Caught hold of God and saved his soul from Hell.

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I had to do a research paper and memorize some of his works this past month. This is one of the poems I memorized. Your poem just reminded me of it... sort of. I thought it'd be cool to respond to a poem with a poem. lol

Anyway. Nice. The night brings out the good work. Kipling was an insomniac too. lol.

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Nice poem.
And.. nice avatar.

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Xanga: LittleMoogle
AIM: r0ck leee

I want to make a Naruto banner. ._.; That's in construction.

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